John's Crappy Drabbles
by JVM-SP150
Summary: A collection of over eight years' worth (2006 - 2013) of absolute South Park-inspired garbage, largely unedited from their original uploads. Includes gen, family and het, both silly and serious stuff, and pretty much every SP character you can imagine, from Eric Cartman to Sharon Marsh to Kevin Mephesto. More reposts to come!
1. Introduction

**A/N: **The following fanfics were all written between 2006 and 2013. I no longer am active in this fandom and am re-posting them as long promised. I sincerely apologize for the misognistic, racist, homophobic, transphobic, ableist, etc. content they may or may not contain. As this particular fic is a collection of initially largely unrelated works, quality and length will vary like hell. I'm sorry.

'/' stories are romantic, '&amp;' stories are friendship/platonic.

**Disclaimer: **_South Park _belongs to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, not this asshole.

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

_#1. Introduction_

_#2. JEALOUSY (Kenny/Wendy)_

_#3. CARNIVAL (Kenny/Wendy)_

_#4. SIX (Tweek/Rebecca)_

_#5. NICKNAMES (Tweek/Rebecca)_

_#6. KITTY (Cartman/Wendy)_

_#7. ELF (Cartman/Wendy)_

_#8. DEBATE (Cartman/Wendy)_

_#9. PRANK CALL (Cartman/Wendy)_

_#10. ONLINE (Cartman/Wendy)_

_#11. GOOD (Cartman&amp;Karen)_

_#12. SLASH (Kenny&amp;Karen)_

_#13. SLASH REDUX (Stan&amp;Randy)_

_#14. FANDOMS (Gen, Stan-centric)_

_#15. IMAGE (Craig/Heidi)_

_#16. CHANGES (Stan&amp;Kyle)_

_#17. HATS (Stan&amp;Kyle)_

_#18. ZOMBIES (Gen, Stan-centric)_

_#19. BRA (Kenny/Sharon)_

_#20. GARDENING (Wendy/Towelie)_

_#21. BEEP (Kenny/Beth)_

_#22. POP (Craig/Lizzy)_

_#23. SQUISH (Karen/Mole)_

_#24. FAMILY (Karen/Mole)_

_#25. CHILD (Kevin M./Linda)_

_#26. THEATER (Stan/Wendy)_

_#27. DILEMMA (Gen, Kenny-centric)_

_#28. PARKA (Gen, Kenny-centric)_

_#29. PARENTS (Stan/Annie)_

_#30. MISERY (Craig/Henrietta)_

_#31. POP-TARTS (Karen/Token)_

_#32. COMFORT (Gary/Bebe)_

_#33. HARRY (Stan/Wendy)_

_#34. DISEASE (Rebecca/Kenny)_

_#35. KISS (Rebecca/Sally)_

_#36. SLUTS (Rebecca/Tammy)_

_#37. REPAID (Craig&amp;Kenny)_

_#38. FORTUNE (Kevin/Red)_

_#39. LOCKERS (Gen, Kevin-centric)_

_#40. PUKE (Stan/Wendy)_

_#41. SLEEPOVER (Kyle/Sharon)_

_#42. PARK COUNTY HIGH (Gen, Stan-centric)_

_#43. DEAR WORLD (Suicide!fic)_

_#44. SECRET IDENTITY (Kenny/Wendy)_

_#45. TAPESTY (Gen, Kenny-centric)_

_#46. UNFORTUNATE SON (Gen, Kenny-centric)_

_#47. REMEMBER ME (Grandpa&amp;Shelly)_

_#48. SOME FAGGY MUSICAL (Milly/Pete)_

_#49. ANGELS (Kenny&amp;Karen)_

_#50. -TBD-_


	2. Jealousy (KennyWendy)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

JEALOUSY (Kenny/Wendy)

It was all supposed to be a big ruse, a joke. Kenny'd take Wendy to the dance for Stan and that'd be it. Just to watch over his buddy's girlfriend, nothing serious, keep anyone else from snatching her. He'd step aside and let the golden couple get back together. He didn't count on a lot of things. Like Wendy actually being sweet about everything - he was used to her being the bitch taking his buddy away. And here he was, standing across from her on the dance floor at Park County High, in a shimmering dress, almost unrecognizable if not for that trademark beret.

This was all supposed to be fake, but it didn't feel fake. When he took her hand and kissed it to greet her, it didn't feel fake. When he put on hand on her waist and another on her back, it didn't feel fake. When they glided across the dance floor together, it didn't feel fake. When he dipped her down, it didn't feel fake, and when their faces were inches apart, their eyes half-shut, the music slow, none of it felt fake. It all felt so very real, and in another world, another universe, perhaps it was real. Perhaps, the idea of Kenny McCormick and Wendy Testaburger, the self-centered chauvinistic pervert and the posessive bitchy feminist, wasn't such a far-fetched and crazy idea.

But when the lights went on, and the music stopped, and the custodians began to clean, and the gym began to clear up, it was back to reality. At the end of the day, everything would go back to normal, and Kenny was reminded this wasn't another world, not another universe, but the same reality he'd always inhabited, the reality where everyone already knew their destiny, and where Wendy Testaburger was (romantically speaking) the sole property of Stan Marsh. Where everything that had just happened was practically a brief interlude of fantasy into the very real lives the teenagers lead.

"God, Wendy, I'm sorry..." came Stan's voice as he approached them, going on and apologizing for whatever it was that had gone wrong between the unbreakable couple this time. Kenny could feel his heart - the one that usually reminded him of it's existence by failing in one way or another - sink in his chest, knowing it was over, the ruse was done, the mission was accomplished, and it was all back to normal like nothing had ever happened. He dusted off his dirty, stained old tuxedo and walked to the door with a heavy sigh. He could save his own pride and say she was just a cockteasing bitch, and displace himself of the blame, but he knew he couldn't manage that much.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and sat outside the school on the front steps. He could feel the little pulse in his heart that told him he knew exactly what he wanted, but Kenny knew no matter how detailed, complicated and full-proof of a scheme he could come up with to win her heart, it was of no use. He could come up with a million plots, spend hours slaving away at the perfect plan to make her his, to get exactly what he wanted, but deep down he knew the truth, as much as he wanted to deny it. The obstacles were too complex, the problems too big, and the situation too grim... but the fantasy would never die.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, "I had a lot of fun tonight." Wendy said, breaking the long silence of the date, those full, light lips curling up as she gave Kenny a light, soft kiss on the cheek, "I'll see you in school sometime." she told him as she walked off with Stan to the car, the other boy proudly in his 'Cows' football jacket, arm around the girl he loved so very much, the girl he deserved, no matter how jealous Kenny felt. He could give her everything she wanted, make her feel so special, in all of the ways Kenny knew he never could. She'd be happier with him, and he knew it.

He let out a final sigh, got up and began making his way home, reminding himself smart, pretty rich girls don't fall for stupid, perverted poor boys.


	3. Carnival (KennyWendy)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

AT THE CARNIVAL (Kenny/Wendy)

South Park Elementary always held a carnival every year. The money raised for the school was usually little, and was only used for small equipment. Nothing important. The most money made was by food stands and similar, as guys and their gals would often go out there. As time passed, it slowly grew more and more successful. It had been running for about twelve years at the current point in time, as a lonely nine-year-old girl in a pink beret with long, flowing black hair down to almost her waist, in a bluish-purple jacket with purple gloves and trim, and a yellow dress walked sadly.

"Step up, throw a ball, win a prize," said a voice. The girl, Wendy Testaburger, looked up, not recognizing the man. It was probably someone being payed to work here. He had stringy brown hair coming out of a dark red hat with 'SCOTCH' written on it, and wore a dirty blue workshirt and black dirty blue jeans. "Just knock down the five bottles. They're plastic so they won't break," he said. His voice was oddly familiar.

"All right," said Wendy, handing him $2.50 and he handed her in turn, three pink balls about the size of a fist. She held them and looked at the bottles, narrowing her eyes. She threw the pink ball and it knocked the top battle clean off. The ones beneath, were fine. "Dammit,"

She threw the second and third and missed both times. "You wanna give it another go?" asked the man. She handed him more money, and he ran behind and put the one bottle up and shot again. And missed again. Humiliated, Wendy payed more, and shot again. Each time she either didn't hit one, or only hit the top bottle.

Wendy soon realized she was gone fifteen dollars, and had already spent five on food. She had five left on her. "Shit," she said. She thought to herself, Wendy Testaburger does not lose. She sighed and put her head down in frustration, and then heard a bang, and zipped up. "Who, eh?"

A boy in an orange coat, over his head was there, his muffled voice coming, "Shoot me, dad," Wendy looked fearfully at Kenny McCormick, before the man gave him three pink balls, with $2.50 placed on the table.

"Kenny, I'm not going to earn any money if you keep buying this stuff,"

"Yeah, yeah, dad,"

Wendy recognized Mr. McCormick. Kenny held the balls and turned, "Wendy, you all right?"

"I'm fine,"

"You don't look very 'fine'."

"Wendy Testaburger is losing. Wendy Testaburger doesn't lose." she said. Kenny simply threw a ball and hit all three bottles in a hit. His father handed him a stuffed rat. "How'd you do that?"

Kenny did not speak. He grabbed Wendy and moved her in front of him, as if he was hugging her from behind, he put his arms next to her's. She was completely hypnotized by Kenny's mere touch. As if she had never been touched by him before. She felt herself twirling, his arm's guiding hers, and smiled. She didn't even notice as her own hands threw a ball and hit all three of the bottles. "Pick a prize, Wend" said Kenny, smiling under his hood, a cherfulness in his voice. She pointed and Mr. McCormick quickly handed her a pink stuffed elephant. She hugged it.

"Thanks Kenny!" she said.

"Heh, it was easy, Wend." Kenny said. He grabbed his third and final ball and hit it again. Then he got a pink rat. "Dad, why do you always give me rats?"

"Well, there's those four that follow you around..."

"Oh, dad," said Kenny. He then handed the pink rat to Wendy, "Here," he said cheerfully.

"For me?" she said, confused.

"Well, yeah, Wendy." he said, as if it was common sense. "I've won enough rats in all of my life than you've won today," he chuckled, "Keep it,"

Wendy took it, smiled, and looked at Kenny, "Thanks dude." The two began walking away from the stand "How did you learn to play so good though?"

"This is the only job my dad's done really really good at." Kenny said to Wendy. "That and drinking beer, but that's not really a job," he said, his voice a whisper. Wendy giggled.

"Thanks, dude, I owe ya one." she replied.

"Oh, you don't owe me anything, Wendy. All I did was give you two stuffed animals."

"Why?" Wendy asked.

"'Cause you're my friend. Outside of the guys," he said, referring to Cartman, Stan, Kyle, Tweek, Craig, Clyde, Butters and Pip, "You're pretty much the only one I've got. And the only girlfr- Friend who's a girl I have," Kenny said, turning red near the end.

"Say, Kenny, mind loosening your hood a bit?"

"W-Why?" Kenny's voice shook.

"You look cute. Even more so, without it." she said.

Kenny pulled his hood open a bit, his mouth and a tuft of hair revealed. "Here you go, Wendy" Wendy smiled at him, then turned, leaned up and pressed her lips on the small exposed part of his cheek in a kiss.

"I love ya, dude," she said platonically, skipping off merrily with the two stuffed animals. She turned and waved and walked off.

"I love you too, Wendy...I love you too." said Kenny. He put his hands in his pockets, sighed and walked off in the opposite direction.


	4. Six (TweekRebecca)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

SIX (Tweek/Rebecca)

"W-what is t-t-twelve divided by t-two?" asks a young girl with bushy brown hair and red clips, shaking slightly, "You can d-d-d-do it, Tweek." she smiled in encouragement.

"GAH I DON'T KNOW I SUCK AT MATH" a boy pulled at frizzy blonde strands, shaking even more so than the girl.

"Come on, you can answer it."

"NO I CAN'T IT'S TOO HARD. WHY IS MATH SO HARD."

"Tweek, just relax, it's-"

"HOW CAN I RELAX. IF I DON'T BEAT MATH, I CAN'T GO TO COLLEGE AND I WON'T GET A GOOD EDUCATION AND THEN I CAN'T BE SUCCESSFUL AND I'LL NEVER GET A JOB AND NO GIRL'LL EVER LOVE ME AND I'LL NEVER GET MARRIED AND-"

"Tweek, if you get it right, I'll give you..." she sighed slightly, "I'll give you a surprise."

"GAH WHAT'S THE SURPRISE I CAN'T TAKE IT SURPRISES ARE SO MUCH PRESSURE-"

"Answer the question" she said skeptically.

"...S-SIX? NO, SEVEN. NO, SIX, DEFINITELY SI-" Tweek's voice was silenced by Rebecca Cotswolds' lips.


	5. Nicknames (TweekRebecca)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

NICKNAMES (Tweek/Rebecca)

"Uh, hi,"

I had no idea what was going on. I was just standing in my door, practically high on coffee and my friend Rebecca Cotswolds was standing out the door, twitching as much as me, clapping her hands together with little noise looking down and nervous as hell. She was wearing the same green coat with purple trim she usually did, wearing a yellow skirt. She looked particularly dissapointed at something, and the greeting seemed all she could manage out.

"ACK! Hi Rebecca!" I managed out. She glanced the other way and looked a bit...oddly at me.

"C-could I come in?"

"S-Sure." I stuttered. Me and Rebecca had become friends for a while. I met her when she was finishing up what would have been the second grade - she was a year behind us all. She's been dating Kyle since then, but we both became friends because she always twitched and twuttered, just like I do when I'm drinking my coffee. We're both very similar in many ways.

She walked in and I closed the door as we sat down on the couch. I looked at the clock as I twitched and sipped my coffee. It was late, approaching 9:00pm, my parents were out closing the place for the day. I looked over to her. She seemed drenched from the rain outside. Her clothes hugging her body to get themselves dry, making her more wet and cold. She gave me a glance and realizing I was looking at her, her eyes darted nervously back to herself. "You okay, Rebecca?" I asked.

She gave a nod. "I'm f-fine, T-Tweek."

I looked to her. "Did you break up with Kyle?"

She nodded once more, "I-I d-don't know why. It just d-didn't feel right t-today Tweek. Like I-I was betray-betraying someone." she said, twitching.

I moved closer to her and patted her back, "Rebecca, we all break off relationships. Remember when me and Red were together?"

"Y-Yes,"

"Well, we broke off because I knew Red belonged with Craig, and they've been together ever since, and that was practically a year ago."

"W-well you're right, but-"

"I was absent for a week after that. It took me a while to face the facts of what I'd done. I'd traded the love of my life so she could be with her's. We all have to do these kinds of things. It's part of life." I said, sipping the coffee, not even realizing what I was saying until the words dripped out of my mouth the way the coffee should. I almost cringed when I felt her hand on my back, not thinking. She turned her head and cried into my shoulder. "It's okay, it's okay," I said, patting her, her tears and cries muffled by my shirt.

"Tweek, you're a g-good friend." she said.

"And you're a great person, Rebecca. Even if you've lost Kyle for now, you can go back to him later, and even so, you'll find that special guy one day." I said. And that reminded me of how my parents always spoke about how they felt when they met. "You'll find that guy that makes you feel special, make you feel like there's butterflies all around inside of your stomach, like you're going to throw them up all over him."

"W-What do you mean?" she said, seperating from me.

"That's how dad told me he felt when he met mom." I replied quickly.

"O-oh." she stuttered. I handed her a cup of coffee, and we both sipped. I put a towel on her back finally to dry her off and hopefully make her feel better. She twitched and drank more. "This coffee is very good."

"I made it myself. Mom and Dad are closing the shop for today, and I'm alone for probably another good hour."

"Oh." she replied, sipping more. She had grown quite a bit in the year. Puberty made her almost the same size as us. Her hair had become a bit more wild, like mine, although it was still the same mousy brown as Heidi Turner. "It's really g-good. Better than the stuff y-your parents make." she said.

"Thanks."

"I bet you could mm-make a lot of money if you s-sold this stuff at your p-parents' shop. A real lot." she said, sipping again and again.

"Don't have too much, you'll get as twichy as me," I said, not even realizing that I was much calmer than usual, twitching, but not screeching. She continued to drink.

"I know why you drink this coffee so much now, Tweek." she said.

"Why?" I asked, her voice still a stutter, but mine much less so than usual.

"Because, it helps you rr-relieve the stress of life. You a-always so there's s-so much pressure, and the coffee m-makes it feel like much l-less. I can just f-feel all of my cares f-floating away." she said, sipping.

"Reb, you gotta stop, if you drink too much, it's almost like getting drunk. You just get twitchy and all of the crap just gets amplified!"

She stopped, looking at me, and frowned, then looked down at the coffee. "But it's g-good."

"Just because it tates g-good," I said, mimicking her for effect, "Does not make it good for you."

"You do it,"

"My parents tell me it's right...I guess I'm a hypocrite, but I don't want anything to happen to you, you're my friend. I don't want you to be a twitchy mess like me."

"I already am, Tweeky."

Not a lot of people were allowed to call me nicknames like 'Tweeky' or Rebecca 'Reb'. This was reserved for the two of us, Craig, Butters and Kenny in my case, and Kyle and Mark in Rebecca's case. "Rebecca, you're one of my best friends. You're like, uh, I don't know, like, I guess, a sister to me," I said. She didn't really feel like a sister, but she was important to me. Very important. Kind of like a sister, but not at the same time.

"You're my best friend, Tweek. Fuck Kyle." she buried her head into my shoulder. I put my head down and rested it on her's. After a few moments, we both got up. "I should g-go, my parents might get w-worried."

"It's okay, you can stay here," I said, grabbing her shoulder. She was still very cold. I couldn't tell if she was shivering or twitching. "You can stay in my room, I'll sleep on the floor. Your parents won't mind,"

"Oh, Tweek, they w-will. They'll think w-we're playing perv-v-verse games or something."

I laughed, "We wouldn't want to dissapoint them, haha," she laughed as well, but things became awkward for a moment. "Come on," I said, grabbing her hand to pull her by the bathroom. I realized my hand was very sweaty. Very, very sweaty. "Sorry," I pulled it away, cradling it. Why was it so sweaty?

"I-It's okay, it actually felt kind of g-good," she said. I could tell it was her nerves, not a twitch, not a shiver. I placed my hand back in her's and pulled her to the bathroom, and pulled the towel off of her. I gave her a brush, "You'd want to brush your hair, it looks a bit messy from the rain," I said. "There's a hair-dryer too, if you need it."

"Tweeky, you're a good friend,"

"You're a good friend too, Reb," I replied. She looked at mer, her brown eyes filled with happiness, then turned back and began to brush her hair. Her hair was always big and bushy and poofy. Kind of funny-looking. I realized I had been watching her brush and felt a bit like a pervert. She didn't seem to mind at all. "Uhhh, do you need anything?" I asked. I don't know why, I felt like I needed to give her something.

"Yeah, another boyfriend," she said, laughing. "Nah, I'm good for now," she said, brushing her hair back into it's familiar shape.

"All right, if you need me, I'll be in my room. Make yourself at home." I said, returning to my room and laying on the bed. It's long astounded me how quickly people found love in South Park. Stan and Wendy, there was no denying it, they belonged together, after all of the crap I've seen those two go through. Sally's stuck with Pip, even though they fight a lot, they've never broken up. Kenny, the one who talks about tits and sex constantly, is still with Kelly, his virgin girlfriend who he's only seen thrice who didn't even seem hot. Cartman and Heidi aren't together that I know of, even though everyone knows they like each other. Annie's thing for Timmy is no secret, and the fact that Annie's name is one of less than thirty words in Timmy's vocabulary is pretty much proof there's some love there. Lizzy and Terrrance Mephisto were an odd match, but it's still there between them. Butters and Millie've been going out for a while. Nobody expected Francis and Esther, Leroy and Jessie, or Bradley and Kal, those just...happened, and they're still going after months. Jimmy freakin beat Nancy up and she's still with him. Kevin and Nelly are good. Red and Craig have been on-and-off, and being cousins doesn't help, but love's there. Lola left me for Token, but I won't hold that against her, or him. Clyde and Bebe, I got no idea. Clyde was Bebe's backup for Kyle, and I heard they broke up, but I don't see any evidence.

"Hi," she said, in the doorway, her body now dry. She looked...beautiful, at the loss for other words to describe it. She walked towards my bed and layed down in it, next to me. "This bed is soft," she said. She turned towards me and seemed to giggle. I turned to look at her face, she smiled. I found myself looking at her lips, and then slowly looking over her full body. Oh God No, I told myself, I'm not falling love with her, I told myself. She's smart, pretty, but...she's Kyle's..."Tweek, you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine, Becky." I said. I don't know, it just slipped out. Nobody's ever called Rebecca 'Becky', it was just a nickname that slipped out. She laughed.

"Becky? Ha, that's a good one." she said, and next thing I knew she was hugging me. I felt her nose by the back of my neck and her arms around me. We were sitting in my bed hugging. "I love you, Tweeky," she said. Not in a real manner, more of a friendly love manner. Without even warning her or myself, I turned my face back and pressed my mouth against her's in a kiss. She quickly seperated, and I worridly realized what I had done, but before I could say anything, she was on top of me and I was flat on the bed. "Well, my parents definaetly won't be dissapointed," she jokingly said, and then she fell back down and kissed me again.

Maybe I should call her Becky more often...


	6. Mr Kitty (CartmanWendy)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

MR. KITTY (Cartman/Wendy)

It was around three in the morning when Wendy Testaburger's doorbell rang. The brunette teenager got up out of bed, put her pink beret over her unusually messy black hair and walked to the door. She didn't want to answer it in purple pajamas but the ringing seemed very urgent and aggravated. She looked through the peephole to see a familiar sight:

"Wendy, open the goddamn door, it's an emergency!" A plump teenager twice as wide as any other boy his age with a yellow-and-blue cap on his head, his trademark red jacket placed over his green pajama shirt hastily. He seemed to be holding something in his chubby hands.

She should have just told him to fuck off - Cartman was an asshole, why should she care? But for some reason she unlocked the door and let him in, "What's the problem, Eric?" she asked. Cartman looked down, then sighed and held out his arms to show a gray feline,

"I-it's Mr. Kitty, she's really sick Wendy, I-I don't know what to do..." he mumbled quietly, "He was puking everywhere earlier. There has to be something you can do?" Wendy had never seen Cartman so... vulnerable. Even though she knew he was a horrible person who'd sooner watch the world die, she put a hand on his shoulder,

"I'll see what I can do, Eric." she sighed simply, taking Mr. Kitty out of his arms. The cat was eager to get away but Cartman held her down as Wendy took a look, "Has she eaten anything strange lately?" Wendy asked him as she looked at the cat - Mr. Kitty was definitely sick, but it didn't seem severe.

"No just the same amount of food as always, and a few table scraps..." Cartman admitted quietly. "I mean on Friday, mom made chocolate chicken pot pies for dinner and we gave her a little chicken, and yesterday we gave her a little of mom's salad. She actually eats salad, isn't that crazy?"

Wendy's eyes widened, "Salad! Eric, cat's digestive systems are made for eating meat, not plants - it's probably experiencing indigestion." she said, "Have her eat a little grass and she'll puke up the salad... if she didn't already." Wendy smiled reassuringly.

"Okay." Cartman took Mr. Kitty and looked at the ground, "Uh, you really helped me back there. I guess... thanks..." Cartman struggled the words out and looked away and awkwardly hugged her of gratitude, an emotion most didn't believe he possessed. Wendy looked around shrugged, and hugged back. "You know, you're not so bad... ho."


	7. Elf (CartmanWendy)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

ELF (Cartman/Wendy)

Eric Cartman didn't know what was more sickening - seeing goddamn Stan's Dad dressed as fucking SANTA CLAUS and thinking he could fool someone over the age of six, or the fact he had to wear a green elf costume and sit next to the fat piece of shit all day along. "Wow, this sure is fun, huh?" he looked to Cartman who rolled his eyes, calling out,

"NEXT LITTLE VISITOR FOR JOLLY OLD KRINGLE!" He wanted to shoot himself in the head so bad it shouldn't be funny - but goddamn would it have been if he wasn't talking about, well, himself. He watched as little Ike Broflovski sat on Santa's lap,

"What do you want for Christmas little boy?"

"Oooh, I want a PlayStation 3!" A typical wish. It seemed every kid wanted either a video game system or a video game. The next kid was little Karen McCormick, who looked far too old to be acceptably sitting on an older man's lap.

"And how about you, little girl?" Randy smirked.

"Oh, um, well, I just... how about a Gobo fighter? Is that okay?"

"Santa will listen to whatever Christmas wish you desire!" Randy said enthusiastically as Karen ran back into her brother's arms, giggling about how much she was looking forward to her very own Gobo fighter.

Next came up - Wendy Testaburger? The fuck is she doing here? Cartman raised an eyebrow as a strawberry blonde haired little girl he couldn't recognize ran from her arms and sat on Santa's lap, "Wendy?" he mouthed, raising an eyebrow at her.

"I'm watching Flora." she told him, not hiding a damn thing from him. Cartman stuck his tongue out towards her and Wendy rolled her eyes. How pathetic of him, risking his job so chilidshly. "Something wrong, Eric?"

"Santa, could you excuse me for just a moment?" Randy, er, Santa nodded, before returning his attention to Flora, who had the longest list of toy wishes he'd probably ever heard. Cartman the Elf approached Wendy, "So, ho, you've taken up to watching the children of your fellow herpes-infected sluts?"

"Flora's mother isn't a herpes-inflected slut." Wendy told him with annoyance, "You're not jolly enough to be one of Santa's elves... but you're big enough to be two or three of them."

"Fuck you, bitch." Cartman replied, "I'm not big, I'm festively plump." he told her, moving in closer, "How about you shut your goddamn whore mouth and stop spreading stupid lies?"

She sneered, moving closer, "How about you lose some weight and start acting respectful to the people around you?"

"In your dreams!" Cartman said, nose touching her's,

"You're never in my dreams!" And quite suddenly, Wendy and Cartman felt their lips pressed to each other's, and soon their arms around their bodies. And after that, it didn't matter if Cartman's boss was firing him, or if Ruby was tugging Wendy's shirt. All that mattered was the two of them.


	8. Debate (CartmanWendy)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

DEBATE (Cartman/Wendy)

Every single Tuesday, the South Park High School Debate Team met. Every single Tuesday, Mr. Vega would preside. Every single Tuesday, Wendy and Cartman would be pitted against each other. Every single Tuesday, the Principal got a call. Every single Tuesday, Liane Cartman and Deborah Testaburger had to chat while their children got ready to go home with them. Every single Tuesday, Wendy got no dessert.

Today's topic of debate was the Watergate Scandal.

"Richard Nixon shouldn't have resigned!" Wendy said, "He could have survived his impeachment trial it wasn't his fault!"

"Tsk, tsk, normally you're smarter than this, Wendy." Cartman shook his head, "Nixon would've been impeached and shamed!"

"But Nixon's foreign policy was amazing, and he successfully ended the Viet Nam conflict." Wendy repremanded gloatfully.

"BUT he didn't end Vietnam. He escalated it and pulled out because of pussy protests." Cartman did Nixon's trademark double-V-for-victory.

"We should never have entered Viet Nam. Johnson was an idiot to make such a decision, France knew the war was unwinnable!"

"True." You could hear the anger in his voice, "But I thought you supported spearchuckers and their Civil Rights."

"What does that have to do with this?"

"Lyndon Johnson was a major supporter of the Civil Rights Movement. Without him, it may have failed." Cartman smirked and laughed at his win.

"Dammit." Wendy cursed.

"I win! MR. VEGA, I WIN!" Cartman did a happy dance.

Mr. Vega came over, "Interesting, I'm surprised you two settled a Nixon debate so quickly... hmmm... all right, new topic: the Iraq War."

"Godammit, those Iraqis need to be taught a lesson!"

"Eric, we need to leave Iraq alone. It's just like Viet Nam, sending innocent soldiers to-"

"Blah blah, will you shut up you stupid bitch?"

Wendy snarled at him. "I am not a stupid bitch, you fat fuck!"

"I'm not a fat fuck, you communist whore!"

"I am not a communist whore you son of a bitch!"

"I'm not a son of a bitch you Right-wing nutjob!"

"I'm not a Right-wing nutjob you dickfuck!"

Mr. Vega finally broke the arguement up, "Eric, Wendy, calm down. What do dicks have to do with Iraq?"

"Ay, we were in the middle of a serious discussion, Mr. Vega!"

"I'll give you a SERIOUS DISCUSSION, Cartman!" Wendy balled up fists in her hands.

"Okay, okay, why don't yuo two try arguing with other people, Wendy you argue with Kenny for a little while, Eric, you can argue with Kyle." Mr. Vega redirected them.

"...Oh Jesus." Kyle's head sunk.

"You two can talk about abortion. Kevin, Wendy, you two will do the Death Penalty." Mr. Vega retreated.

"All right, I'm against the death penalty." Wendy said. At the moment, Kenny was looking her in the eyes and nodded.

"I'm for it under certain circumstances."

"Well, I don't believe in it. Life imprisonment is a far worse sentence than death in my opinion. Wouldn't it be better to put someone through years of torture than to let them just die easy? I certainly don't think so. Besides, quick painless death is just to entertain the press and - My head is up here, Kenny!"

"I'm looking at your head!" Kenny protested, his eyes fleeting a bit.

"Godammit, what is with you and boobs?"

"...Can I help it if you're attractive?"

"Well no, but-"

"Besides, just because I'm basically checking you out doesn't mean I'm just looking at your boobs."

"It's still fucking sick!"

"Woah, woah Wendy, calm down, you're gonna get your boobs all angry and they're gonna start killing everyone!" Cartman broke off from his discussion with Kyle.

"Shut your fat mouth, Cartman!"

Kenny moved over by Kyle as Cartman and Wendy began another debate, "Why do you look so pissed?" Kenny asked.

"I think I lost a bet."

"WELL AT LEAST I'M NOT A STUPID HIPPIE."

"I'M NOT A HIPPIE YOU FAT PIECE OF SHIT."

"What did you bet?"

"WHAT DOES BRIAN BOITANO HAVE TO DO WITH THIS?"

Kyle sighed, "It's a long story."

"IS THAT A FUCKING BLENDER?"

"You made a bet with that Mandy chick about Cartman and Wendy didn't you?"

"THE JEWS CAUSED 9/11!"

"Yeah..."

"BUSH IS THE WORST PRESIDENT SINCE HARDING."

"...Debate Team would be funner without them."

"WHY ARE WE ARGUGING ABOUT YOUR PENIS?"

"Can we just get rid of fatass?" Kenny asked.

"THAT'S A 55 NOT A 65 YOU DUMBFUCK!"

"You just want us to keep Wendy cause you think she's hot." Kyle crossed his arms.

"YOU ARE SO FUCKING JUVENILE!"

"Not just cause she's hot. It's a major driving force behind the decision, but not the only one."

"CHUCK NORRIS DOES NOT HAVE A THIRD FIST UNDER HIS BEARD."

"...Okay, this is getting boring." Kyle complained.

"LITE-BRITE IS THE BEST FUCKING TOY EVER."

"CHILDREN, STOP ARGUING!" Mr. Vega got between Cartman and Wendy, "This is VERY annoying! Do I need to kick you both out?"

Wendy smiled sweetly "It's fine, Mr. Vega, I'll take Cartman out in the hall so we can have a really serious discussion."

Cartman was pulled outside, "What do you want to discuss, ho?" At that, Wendy threw Cartman into a locker for seemingly no reason at all, kissed him. After a moment or so of intense makeout, Wendy seperated, and Cartman smirked, "I see your point, and I agree." Wendy took out a pair of handcuffs. "...under certain circumstances...


	9. Prank Calls (CartmanWendy)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

PRANK CALLS (Cartman/Wendy)

"So, so, come on, tell me what happened!" Bebe Stevens insisted eagerly, sitting on her bed next to her best friend Wendy Testaburger. Bebe had long, curly blonde hair, striking blue eyes and was currently wearing a red jacket with gray trim. "What happened!?"

Wendy Testaburger's black hair rested on her shoulders, pink beret drooping over her face, brown eyes at the floor as she blushed, "Nothing happened, Bebe, Jesus..."

"Come on Wendy, tell me!" Bebe insisted, grinning, "What happened?"

"Well..."

xXx

"All right, while me and Deborah go talk in the other room, you kids be good now, all right?" the middle-aged but still curvy Liane Cartman said, suited, dark-haired Deborah Testaburger at her side looking stern. Cartman, fat as ever held a halo over his brown-haired head as Wendy rolled her eyes. "You be a good snugglebug okay?" she kissed her son on the forehad and left Wendy and Cartman alone in the living room of the house.

"...Snugglebug, huh?"

"Shut up, ho." Cartman scowled. "Look, you go do your stupid thing, I'm gonna take advantage of being in someone else's house." he said, picking up the phone and dialing, grinning.

Wendy crossed her arms incredulously, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Making a prank call." Cartman stuck out on his tongue, "Hello?" he put the phone on speaker.

"Who's there?" Mr. Mackey asked, "It says private number, m'kay."

"Hey, Mackey, is your refrigerator running?"

"Very funny, I know this one, m'kay, it's not!" Mackey lied.

"...well, this is Sears Home Repair, we'll be right over!" Cartman covered the reciever and laughed his ass off.

"No, no, my refrigerator's running great, m'kay!"

"Then you better go catch it!" Cartman's stomach jiggled as he laughed. Wendy sneered and hung up, "Hey bitch, what's wrong? Everyone likes prank calls!"

"Eric, it's illegal, immoral and immature." Wendy crossed her arms, "...and you did it totally wrong and unprofessionally."

"Oh really? Show me how it's done then." Cartman handed her the phone, "If you're so much goddamn better than me, you do it!" Wendy looked down,

"I would never... demean myself to such a low... I don't need to prove anything to you!" There was a long pause as Cartman held out the phone, "...okay, you know what, I'll do it, but only as a learning experience, because education is important." she cleared her throat, dialed the number and picked up the phone,

"Yes, what the hell is it?" Mayor McDaniels answered grumpily. There were noises as if she was looking through something,

Wendy's voice sounded rather boyfish for the moment, "Good day, ma'am, my name is Arnold with National Pornographic, your subscription to the Jugs of the World franchise is up on the 30th, we're going to need you to send us a check for about $49.99 for another year's subscription if you want the next 6 episodes. We also regret to inform you that the Shemale Gangbang series has been discontinued."

"Are you sure it's the 30th? I'm pretty sure my subscription was set to last through the end of October this year. And I told you last time I wanted to switch out Shemale Gangbang for Naughty Nurses!" Cartman couldn't tell if the professional, nonchalant way the Mayor addressed it made it funnier, or just the fact she watched any porn to begin with.

"I'm terribly sorry, ma'm, I'll fix that right away." Wendy smirked, "Have you considered checking out our new series International Incest series? It's become quite a hit."

"Frankly sir, you're a sick bastard." the Mayor replied, "Anyone who will charge that far up the ass for some foreign taboo tapes that are already online is goddamn insane."

"All right, one more question - may I interest you in Backdoor Sluts XIV? It's the most hardcore installment since the ninth one." Wendy explained. Cartman was frankly impressed with Wendy's knowledge of pornography. (John, on the other hand, is slightly scared at this point.)

"No, thanks, I'd rather just rent that one from the Twin Towers video store." the Mayor said dismissively, "Just make the changes I asked for last time and I'll send in the friggin' check. Now leave me alone." she hung up, crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. People these days...

"Damn, ho, that was pretty good... hey, let's try doing this next one together. Any suggestions?" Cartman asked. He was ready to dial.

"I have just the idea." Wendy smirked, whispering into his ear.

"Oh my God, that is fucking perfect." Cartman grinned, dialing the number.

"Broflovski residence, Sheila speaking. Who is this?" Sheila asked, holding the phone up. Cartman held back laughter, doing his best Jew voice... which was actually pretty crappy, this is Cartman dammit.

"Hello ma'am, my name is Ernest Puddspucker, me and my wife would like to speak with a Mr. Dean Wall please." he said. Wendy had no qualms, this was only a prank call after all.

"I'm sorry sir, there isn't a Dean Wall here, sir."

Wendy took the phone, using a light accent, "Well then, ma'am, may we speak to a Mrs. Joanne Wall, please?"

"There isn't a Joanne Wall here either..." Sheila said, starting to get suspicious.

"Well, are there any Walls there?" Cartman asked, trying to hold back a chuckle. Wendy was holding her hand over her mouth.

"No, not a single one. This is the Broflovski residence, I said that when you picked up."

"Then what's holding your roof up?" Cartman and Wendy said at the same time, before bursting into laughter and tears.

"What what what! I'll have you know under the Telecommunications Act of 1996 I can have both of the two of you arrested for this!" Sheila said angrily, "This will not stand, Mr. and Mrs... hold on a second..." her voice became distant, "GERALD, THE CALLER ID ISN'T WORKING!" Cartman shrugged and hung up,

"Oh my God, did you hear her? What a stupid bitch!" Cartman laughed, "You know though, you're actually pretty good at this... for a ho, I mean, heh." Cartman replied.

"Yeah, thanks, you're not so terrible yourself... for a fat piece of shit." Wendy smirked.

Liane walked back into the room, "Poopeskins, it's time to go home. Say goodbye to your little friend." she advised. Cartman shrugged and waved Wendy off carelessly now that the fun and games were over. Wendy shrugged as well, standing with her mother and waving them off, "We'll be seeing you again soon." Liane told them as she walked out with Cartman, approaching the car, "Did you have fun tonight, snugglebug?"

"You know what mom?" Cartman said, "...hell no, Wendy's a stupid bitch!" he told her, taking his seat and looking out the window and taking out his cell phone, "I'm just, uh, gonna make a call right hyah." he explained, dialing Wendy's number with a typical *69. Finally, he got an answer, "Is this Wendy's?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah, this is Wendy."

"Oh great... well, let's see I'd like one Cheeseburger-"

xXx

"...and we basically exchange prank calls to each other all the time." Wendy shrugged, "We don't even hide each other's numbers half the time anymore and we get a good laugh... and it means I don't have to prank call anyone else if I have an idea, so no skin off my bones." she smirked.

"Awwh, Wendy finally found her match!" Bebe grinned, "Lucky you!"

"Oh, stop it Bebe, I don't even like him." Wendy rolled her eyes.

"Wendy and Cartman sitting in a tree, F-"

"Cut it out Bebe!" Wendy began to blush, "We're just partners in prank calling is all, it's nothing more than that!"

"Pfft, we'll see." Bebe rolled her eyes, "Anyway, let's talk about something else, since you clearly don't want to discuss Cartman since you like him so much!" she chuckled.

"Oh shut up. Now come on, tell me what you think about this Crackle Nail Polish..."


	10. Online (CartmanWendy)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

ONLINE (Cartman/Wendy)

She's ON Again

I logged on to AIM as usual. No problem there. I looked through my friends list - lovestospooge, kyleisgood11, faps2much, sonotfrench, hellokitty13, screwyou12, and lilmissperfect were on. Wait, what? I looked it over... Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Pip, Butters...Oh Jesus, it's her...She's ON Again...Wendy...Crap, what will I ask her? If I say 'Hi' it could be too nice, and I haven't messaged her before, she's not on alot...'Hello'...Oh fuck no, that's too informal...'Hey'...no that's too rude...Fuck...

What to ask her about? The Election...No, no, I know she voted Obama...what about...No, no, she's against that...I could ask her about...no wait she stopped liking that show ages ago...homework...no she's in advanced classes now...I can't insult her she could just call her parents in, too risky...Godammit, what am I supposed to say to her?

I can't talk to her. That's just it, I can't... I'll say something I shouldn't... She'll be creeped out, I haven't even spoken to her online before...Oh, but if I don't, I'll want to kill myself later like always... Dammit... What do I do? What the hell do I do? I have to say SOMETHING, but what can I say? Dammit Kyle, once again you were right!

...

Oh, Stan messaged me: "hey cartman wutz up" I type back my reply: "hey stan nuthin much". Okay, this is going okay. Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can message Wendy. Oh Jesus, but what if - oh crap is she logging of? No, no, the alert's just telling me coffeeftw - that's Tweek - logged on. Phew. "hey stan howz wend?" I ask casually.

"wtf u wanna know?2"

Crap, he's on to me... I have to play it sneaky. "cause im bored and id rather listen to you talk about ur hippie girlfriend" I message back. I wait for his reply and stare at her icon. Dammit, why must I be tortured like this? Do you enjoy this God, do you enjoy seeing me squirm at being in love with a girl I can never have?

"f-u fatass shes fine"

"oh okay"

Dammit. Don't panic man, you can message her. You can do it. Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't panic. Your arms are just flailing around like insane because you're bored. Shit, your panicking! Get a grip on yourself! You're Eric Cartman! You're not going to let a little ho control you! I put my arms down in a sigh. It's no use. She's driving me mad, I just know it.

I spin my chair around and decide to play a game, but my mouse moves towards the little AIM icon... No, No...DAMMIT...I'm torturing myself. I want to message her so fucking badly...No...Must not...Yes, I didn't click...Phew, at least I have a little sense left. I have to find something to distract myself...Ummm...ummm...Dammit, where did Kenny go? He logged off. Fuck. Stan? Oh, he's Away.

"hi eric"

Dammit, it's Butters.

"hey leopald wuzzup"

"wuts that mean eric?"

"it means 'what is up'"

"oh"

I scoff at Butters' stupidity. He's such an idiot. I look at her name again. The little icon is just mocking me 'HAHA YOU WANNA CLICK ME DON'T YOU!' I hit myself. I'm an idiot. I'm a moron. I'm a stupid, unlikable fatass. No wait, I'm not fat. I'm big boned. She's just a stupid hippie. Why do I care?

Because I love her.

I hit myself again. No. I'm Eric fuckin Cartman, I don't love no hippie. Stan loves her. I glance over at my AIM panel again. She's still on. Kenny's back. What the hell is with the alerts not popping up tonight?

"hey kinny" I message him.

"o hay cman" he messages me.

"kinny i has a problem"

"you mean ur spelling?"

There was a long angry pause before I typed back: "no wai dumbass...its a girl"

"CARTMAN LIKES A GIRL HAHAHAHAAHAHAHA"

Asshole.

"I dunt know wat to ask her, dude."

"Ask her how she's doing."

"no wai dude ive never msged her before"

There was a pause before Kenny finally typed back "wait" and then quickly after "is she a cyberfriend or is it actually someone?"

"no wai dude i dont go for pedos!11"

"dude cyberfriends arent anything 2 b ashamed of, i talk to a girl online all the time."

"wuts she think of ur sex jokes?"

There was a long pause before his simple reply came - "fuck u, fatass"

"srsly, i need your help for once, dude"

There was another pause before he replied, "*sigh* ok dude ill help you"

"thnks"

He added "hey u know what i hate? when ppl write stuff and use like chats n shit so they can b lazy about it"

"shut up and help me kinny,"

"fine fine...who is it?"

"im not telling u"

"its Wendy isnt it?"

"no it isnt"

"yes it is"

"no it isnt"

"yes it is"

"no it isnt"

"yes it is"

"no it isnt"

"yes it is"

"no it isnt"

"yes it is"

"no it isnt"

"yes it is"

I sighed. There was no arguing with Kenny 'faps2much' McCormick "fine fine it is, ok? just plz dont tell"

"i wont dude." he said. A reply came a minute later, "so she likes political stuff. did u try the election?"

"she already voted obama i know"

"oh." there was a pause, "hold on a sec"

"KINNY NO!" I yelled out loud. My mother walked into the room carrying some cookies,

"Is something wrong, hon?"

"No, mam, I'm fiane," I tell her as she walks away. I go back to my torture.

"a'ight, i talked to her i didnt say anything abotu u dont worry" Kenny replied.

"good," I typed back. "wut did she say u poor piece of shit?"

"stfu" came his message. "shes bored"

"oh" I typed, "what did u say though?"

"i said 'hey wendy' and she said 'Hi Kenny' with a little red smilie" he wrote, then he added, "and i asked 'how are yaz' and she said 'Fine. Just a bit bored. How are you?' and i said 'im good'"

"oh. i suppose i should go msg her." I typed.

"yeah," Kenny replied. I sighed, closed my eyes, then the window, then clicked Wendy's name. Just as I typed 'hello-'

'lilmissperfect has logged off'

"OH GOD-FUCKING-DAMMIT!" I yell out, grabbing the monitor and throwing it into the wall as my torture was ended in the worst way possible. I cringe, then yell, "MAAAM?"

"Yes hun?"

"The computer commited suicide."

"Well, I guess Eduardo will have to make two house calls tonight."

After a long pause, I looked at my mother - "What?"


	11. Good (Cartman&Karen)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

GOOD (Cartman&amp;Karen)

Karen McCormick always held a small friendship to Eric Cartman, her brother's best friend, if only in name. She sympathized with his unpopularity, they both enjoyed tea parties, and playing with dolls. Not that he'd admit to any of that, but occasionally she got him to play a few games, until her brother escorted him away and told her how dangerous he was. But that one moment of weakness had resonated with her...

She'd seen him crying outside on his lawn of his house, messy brown hair spilling over his face, pudgy hands in his eyes as tears rolled down his face. Karen approached him, biting her lip, holding her stuffed animal, "Hi..."

"W-what the hell d'you want?" Cartman raised his face, glaring just a little, "Can't you see ahm busy?" The fat boy said, trying to hide his reddened, crying face. Karen looked down,

"Are you crying, Eric?" she asked quietly, "It's okay to cry..." she told him, "My daddy always said crying was for pussies, but sometimes when he and mommy fight I hear him cry. And my mommy cries, too, sometimes. And me too. Everyone cries."

He looked at her, then sighed, "Look, go away, okay? I-I've just been through a really tough tahm..." he sniffed, before noticing the doll in her hand, "You like dolls, huh?" Karen nodded. Cartman looked down, "Stay hyah for a second." he turned around and went inside. Karen waited patiently as he came back out with a very damaged doll.

"Who is this?" Karen asked. She never treated her toys as objects - they were like people to her. They were not things, they were friends.

"P-Polly Prissy Pants..." Cartman said quietly, "J-just... take good care of it, okay?" he told her quickly, as if trying to shut himself up. "Ahm done with stuffed animals. Dumb toys..." he said, before sighing one more time, "Now get your poor ass away from meh." Cartman glared at her as he went into the house. Karen looked down, then walked home, now with two dolls. Ever since then, she'd always believed, no, always known there was good in him, as intolerable as he could be.

There was good in everybody, somewhere.


	12. Slaush (Kenny&Karen)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

SLASH (Kenny&amp;Karen)

Karen McCormick was crying into her pillow. She was a pretty, sweet girl with lighter brown hair, blue eyes and fair skin, besides the occasional dirt and bruises. It was Christmas Eve and once again, her parents were fighting over something stupid. She hated seeing them like this - she loved both her parents, and every time she saw them arguing and fighting, it made her sick to her stomach. She clutched the pillow and let the tears soak her object of comfort, for the moment. All of this stopped when she heard her window move. She looked up and stopped crying, "Hello, Guardian Angel. It's been a while."

"Hello Karen." Mysterion reported, crouched in her window, looking down, gloved hands gripping the window frame to help keep himself up, "I know, I'm sorry..." But you're growing up and I can't keep doing this your whole life... Mysterion sighed. "Are you all right?" he asked. It felt like a stupid question, yet he felt obligated to ask.

"I'm fine..." she looked down, tears still rolling down her cheeks, "Can you answer me something, Guardian Angel? A really adult question?"

Mysterion raised an eyebrow, "You know you can ask me anything." he replied, "What is it you'd like to know?"

"Is there really a Vunter Slaush?" Karen asked quietly, "I heard when my mommy and daddy were fighting, mommy said there's no such thing... she said daddy needs to stop trying to lie to me about it, that I'm too smart for that kind of thing... there's... there's really a Vunter Slaush, right?"

Mysterion looked down. This wasn't the kind of talk he should be having with his sibling. This should be a child and an adult conversing. But since when did his family function normally? He looked at her blue eyes, full of innoence and sweetness. She was not corrupt the way he and his friends had been at her age, "Karen, that's a difficult question to answer." he told her, "Slash exists but he's... not what you think he is. He's not just a man who plays music and delivers presents. He's..." he thought carefully, ""He's a feeling, inside everyone of us."

"I don't understand..." Karen looked down, gripping her teddy bear tightly. Mysterion sighed - this wasn't his cup of tea, but God knows his parents didn't know shit.

"Slash is about more than just music and presents. He's about that warm feeling in your heart. The feeling when you give somebody else something and they're... happy. And it's because of you. It's a feeling inside everyone one of us... except Eric Cartman... and that's what Slash and Santa Claus and Christmas time are really all about... presents."

"So Slash is real then?" Karen smiled and Mysterion nodded, "Thanks, Guardian Angel... you always help things make more sense." she smiled. Mysterion smiled as well,

"Anytime... I have to be going now. Good night, Karen." Mysterion hopped down from the window, glad he was able to comfort her, even if his explanation wasn't the highest quality.

"Wait!" he turned, Karen standing in the window, "I just wanted to say... merry Christmas."


	13. Slaush (Randy&Stan)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

SLASH REDUX (Stan&amp;Randy)

A longer, darker-haired Randy Marsh sat with his guitar cases, grinning. Ever since his days in the Ghetto Avenue boys, he'd loved music, and his favorite instrument was of course the guitar. It was a late night, so he decided to clean the fretboard, as most guitarists are supposed to do annually apparently. Taking out the largest and most expensive guitar, Randy breathered in and got up to get some steel wool out of his closet, when the door to his study opened. "Dad?"

"Stan!" Randy panicked, turning around, "This isn't what it looks like!" Little Stan walked into the room and towards the guitars, raising an eyebrow,

"Dad, isn't that Slash's guitar?"

"Shh, shh, Stan!" Randy covered his son's mouth, "Okay, look Stan, sometimes when adults... godammit, how do I do this?" he pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, "Look sometimes when adults want their kids to have a good holiday, they... dress up and play for Guns n' Roses. You have to understand, Stan, it's really not that big a deal, it's just kind of a pretend thing, like how we all pretend we care about what people post on Facebook. You understand?"

"So you're Slash then?" Stan asked. His father looked down,

"...well, kinda, yeah. I mean I did go on tour a while. Hey, you know 'November Rain'? Totally my idea."

"Mom says I can't listen to Guns n' Roses until I'm older unless I'm good at my birthday." Stan said quietly.

"Well, yeah, if you're good at your birthday, Slash will come play for you." Randy insisted.

"Wow, my dad's a real musician. I can't wait to tell Kyle and Kenny and fatass!" Stan squirmed with delight.

"Dammit Stanley, watch your language, you don't want your mother picking up on that shit." Randy scolded, "Now come on, let's get you a glass of water and to bed. Now don't tell anybody about this, okay? Not your friends, not your sister, not grandpa, not even your mother. Okay?"

"Okay, dad..." Randy brought his son, corruption not yet fully evident, a glass of water and put him to bed, and went to the bedroom to rejoin Sharon, sighing. The younger Sharon, with longer, glossier brown hair, but otherwise looking much the same, put down her book and glasses,

"Is something, wrong, Randy?"

"Sharon, I feel horrible for lying to Stan about Slash..." he admitted, "I mean, is it really fair for all of us to have this big conspiracy? Yeah the kids like it but then when they find out the truth, they feel so lied to... I mean, yeah, going on tour and stuff is fun and all, but I mean, is it our place?"

"Don't feel horrible, Randy. You're expressing your creativity in your own way. It may not be for everyone, but art rarely is." Sharon replied, "And last time I checked, you weren't hurting anyone. We all have our own passions." There was a long pause, as if there was a sentence missing here.

"Yeah, you're right." Randy said, yawning, "Hey Sharon, I'm better than Axl Rose, right?"

"Whatever you say, Randy." Sharon said, turning out the lights. "Good night."

"G'night Sharon..."


	14. Fandoms (Gen)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

FANDOMS (Gen)

"So, Stan, you see Terrance &amp; Phillip last night?" Kyle asked Stan, grinning, books in his arms. It had been really, a great episode, and he loved discussing it with Stan. Stan yawned and stepped back from his locker, "The one where Sally's sent into foster care?"

"Oh, that one? Oh yeah, it was pretty sweet I guess." he said with a bit of apathy. Kyle always tried to get into super deep conversations on t he new episodes but he could care less at this point. He was getting sick of hearing about it every week.

"Yeah, it was awesome, it finally confirmed what all us fans thought about Celine's new husband, huh? You know me and this girl I know online have been calling him Dean for months but nobody ever believed us, and look, they called him Dean. You know, it feels like I'm really making a difference."

"Right, Kyle, you lucked out in the name of a TV character, you made a difference, good for you." Stan fed right back to him, hoping it'd get him to stop.

"But my favorite part was definitely seeing Terrance save Sally from... I'm sorry, Bebe, did you think one of us called you?" Bebe was standing by Kyle and Stan looking pretty excited.

"Oh, don't worry, I watch Terrance &amp; Phillip, I'm a huge fan actually, I have the T-shirts, the coffee mugs, the DVD's, the mouse pads, the posters, the X-rated porn spoof, the video games..." Bebe listed off casually.

"Dude, sweet, hey you ever write any fanfiction?" Oh God. Kyle's bringing up his stupid fucking fanfics again. Can't that kid get a really hobby? I mean how much worse can you get than writing fanfiction for an animated TV show. Who on Earth could possibly do something so menial and stupid? I mean, really? Come on.

"Do I ever! Ever read anything by Terillip12?" Bebe smirked, "Over one-hundred stories, all Terrance &amp; Phillip!" she said happily.

"...isn't Terillip the nickname for those stories where Terrance and Phillip are gay lovers?" Stan asked, closing his locker.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me! Bebe, you're one of those slash-obsessed asstards!?" Kyle said in disbelief.

"No way, Kyle!" Bebe spat, "I'm no asstard! Every real Terrance &amp; Phillip fan knows their romance is like, the absolute basis for the entire series! I mean, have you seen 'Terrance &amp; Phillip Go to China?' They totally admit they love each other!"

"Really Bebe? That's bullshit. That whole episode they're pissed off about that kid who was raped. They're married for God's sake. You're a sick fuck, Bebe!" Kyle sneered. Once again taking shit way too seriously.

"I'm a sick fuck? Hey, you're the one who's a total homophobe! You just refuse to see their true love because you're too busy hating on gay people all the time! Well you know what Kyle? They're here, they're queer, get used to it!"

"Uh, come on, you guys are both being pathetic!" Cartman stopped, looking at both with rage.

"Thank you!" Finally, someone else shared Stan's point-of-view on how trivial this all was.

"Everyone knows Phillip belongs with Celine Dion because she's a good girl and he's the real playboy, that's how pairings work! Terrance is a total goody two-shoes!" Cartman said, approaching both Kyle and Bebe.

"Oh, come on!" Stan nosebridgepinched.

"No way, fatass, Celine's a total bitch, Katherine and Katie, too, the only good female character is Sally." Bebe noted, "Celine wants a boy who'll obey her orders, if anyone fits her it's Ugly Bob, and he's with Scott the Dick!"

"No way, you guys are debating this garbage?" Kenny asked. Stan glowed but Kenny dashed those hopes, "Ugly Bob and Scott the Dick are total opposites. Ugly Bob belongs with Celine, Terrance with Katherine, Phillip with Katie, and Scott is forever alone. I mean, God, it's right there in the show."

"Kenny, you're forgetting Episode 407." Butters interrupted, "Scott kinda likes Celine, remember?"

"Butters, that doesn't matter because Celine doesn't return Scott's feelings anymore, she moved on. Besides, I think Scott's gay now, Bebe does kind of have that one." Kyle admitted.

"Keehl, come on, you really think Scott's gay? Hey Annie, Annie!" Cartman went into the hall and put an arm around Annie, bringing her over by the guys, "Come on Annie, lemme ask you, what do you think of pairings on Terrance &amp; Phillip? Do you think Scott the Dick is gay?"

"Well, to be really honest..." Annie looked down, "I don't think the pairings matter. It's a great show, but it's non-romantic, the satire and humor are what makes it cool. We shouldn't turn it into something it's not."

"...godammit Annie, go back and be with your other lame girls!" Cartman shoved her aside like worthless garabage and went to find someone else. Stan sighed a bit - at least someone here wasn't completely crazy.

"Hey Jimmy, can you t-tell all these guys that Scott the Weiner isn't a homosexual? By golly, Eric's real mad about it..." Butters said as Jimmy approached the group, "Go on, tell them."

"Well, while I'll admit there are homosexual i-implications in the show, they're used just for j-j-jokes, and I can see how the writers intend to u-use them, but I don't think Scott is a f-f-f... f-f-f... f-f-faggot."

"Screw you, Jimmy, you guys want to know who really knows their Terrance &amp; Phillip trivia? Clyde. Go on, Clyde, tell them how much you know about Terrance &amp; Phillip!" Cartman commanded.

"Scott isn't gay. Can I have my taco now?"

"CLYDE GODAMMIT!" Cartman nearly screamed, "You said you watched it on a weekly basis now explain to them why Terrance &amp; Phillip aren't gay?"

"That's fine, Timmy, tell them how it is!" Bebe wheeled over Timmy.

"Timmah!"

"...dude, I'm not arguing with Timmy, he's like the Master Debater!" Clyde told an angry Cartman.

"Heheh, he said masturbator." Fosse laughed from the sidelines,

"Heheh, yeah!"

"Hey, hey..." Randy pushed some kids out of the way to reach the group, "Come on you guys, really? Everybody..." he caught his breath, "Everybody knows Scott is clearly in love with Katherine! He was totally checking out her tits in Episode 1511!"

Wendy looked over, "Come on, do any of you really watch the show? Butters is right, it's all spelled out... except Scott clearly still has feelings for Celine that are unresolved."

"No, not you too!" Stan stepped forward in the middle of the cluster, "Come on you guys, aren't we taking this a little far? All we're doing is rehashing the same shitty romantic pairings, and over and over! That's not what Terrance &amp; Phillip is about! Yes, the romance is important, there's no denying that, a little romance is fine, but are we going to let our perceptions of the show be dominated by the characters' sexualities and relationships? I mean godammit you people are fucking pathetic!"

"Stan, if you're getting this mad, you're the one who takes it too seriously." Craig quipped as he ran off.

"Awh, GoDAMMIT!" Stan walked off.


	15. Image (CraigHeidi)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

IMAGE (Craig/Heidi)

"Craig, you son of a bitch, it's almost time for the fucking dance, help me with this dress!" Heidi Turner growled, trying to get on a dark green dress that wrapped around her body snugly - or at least, it would, if she could get it on. Her boyfriend Craig Tucker was indifferent, aviator cap tight on his head. "Are you playing fucking Angry Birds again? Help me, dick!"

"I'll help you when I feel like it, bitch." Craig said, yawning before moving forward and beginning to zip up the dress. It didn't flatter her at all - well, all right, it was a pretty sexy dress, but the zipper would make her look like a circus from behind. Heidi crossed her arms,

"Can you hurry it the fuck up back there?" Heidi was getting impatient. This was the biggest dance of her life, if her fucking dumbass boyfriend screwed this up for her, she'd skin him alive. This was the biggest social event of the year and her one chance to totally upstage Bebe Stevens. She already knew Craig was way hotter than Kyle, and Kyle didn't even want to be with Bebe, so ha. She'd have this in the bag if Craig wasn't being such a retard back there.

"I'm going as far as I can, she-bitch." Craig finished zipping up her dress. Ungrateful bitch. He'd show her one day. He knew she was just using his awesome Bradley Cooper-esque good looks to get back at that ugly skank Bebe. "Can we dance now already?"

"Dammit, have some fucking patience." she pulled out a bottle of perfume for herself, spraying it, "This isn't about you, this is about me, okay? I didn't have my daddy drive us here in a limo for pleasure, it's for image." Not a thingy-dingy was more important to a teenage girl than image, except maybe, just maybe libido.

"Come on, bitch, I want to get some fuckin' punch before I have to swing your fat ass around the stupid dance floor!" Craig commanded. He felt more humiliated than she did, dressed in a nice black suit with a blue tie and no aviator cap, his hair trimmed to perfection, at least according to his mother. If only Stripe was with him...

"My ass isn't fat, Craig, it's curvy. You'd know the difference if you had half a brain, but no, you're just like Lee Harvey Oswald. Look like him and have as little a brain as him! I pity you, I do..." she opened the door for them to go enter the dance floor. Plenty of couples were already around, dancing. Craig crossed his arms, going by the punch bowl where Kyle Broflovski was getting a drink. Heidi left him for a moment to converse with Kelly.

"Who the hell'd you bring, Broflovski?" Craig asked, raising an eyebrow as he poured himself a plastic cup full of punch.

"Oh, I'm not here with anyone. My girlfriend, uh, didn't want to show up..." It sounded like there was more to Kyle's story than he was letting on, but Craig chose not to pursue it. Possibly because he really didn't care. At all. "You know, you're lucky, Craig, Heidi may be a huge bitch, but at least she's actually willing to go out in public with you... me and my girlfriend, we have to keep it secret, cause if Stan finds out- I mean, if anyone finds out, we'll never be able to see each other again..."

"Whatever, Broflovski." Craig flipped him off.

Kelly, meanwhile, was standing alone to the side when she saw Heidi. Heidi didn't like Kelly at all, except that she could gloat to Kelly for hours on end - this was her plan for tonight, "Hey Kelly! See who I came with? Craig Tucker! Isn't that impressive? Isn't he just the sexiest guy you've ever seen?"

Kelly sighed, "No... I wouldn't say so... you really like him, huh? Craig? You know, you're lucky you were able to bring somebody at all. Some of us wish we had that." she took a drink of her own punch, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom. Have fun with your date." Another fuckin' speech? Then the bitch just runs off? Ugh. Heidi was disgusted. Not quite as disgusted as she was a moment later when a slow song came on and the couples hooked up to dance.

She sighed as she approached Craig and let him take her hands, "I fucking hate you." she mumbled as he pulled her close as the other men pulled their dates, spinning her and dipping her. He tossed her almost completely away, connected by only a finger as he spun her, pulled her in for another deep,

"Right back 'atcha, bitch." And as the other couples kissed, so did they, and despite being completely enamoured with themselves, both of them had to hold back in admitting the other was a pretty damn good kisser - even if they both assured themselves it was only for their images.


	16. Changes (Stan&Kyle)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

CHANGES (Stan&amp;Kyle)

Stan Marsh sat at Stark's Pond on a nice, cool spring day. The water lillies stood at attention, the grass was healthy and green, the flowers were beginning to bloom, and the water was nice and steady, waves lightly rolling across. His hands rested on his cheeks. It was a familiar scene, but even now at eighteen, he was here again. He still wore the same red-and-blue poofball cap, and he still wore a red-and-brown jacket, but his black hair was longer, his blue eyes more expressive, his white T-shirt ditched for various designs, his features more chiseled. He had grown up, even admist the chaos of South Park.

And now it was all going to change.

They say all good things must come to an end - or maybe that was just a Star Trek line. Irregardless, the torch was being passed. They weren't kids anymore. And yet, it felt impossible to believe that in just a few short months, they would all be leaving South Park forever. The twisted, crazy place that had shaped their childhoods, fucked up as they may be, was going to be a figment of the past. The class so full of hope, had become it's own undoing, as everyone was scattered across the world, never to see each other again.

Cartman was going into a business school somewhere in Texas. Kenny was pursuing a law enforcement degree up in New York. Kyle was going to become an accoutant up in Chicago. Butters was going into the advertising industry. Jimmy was moving to Los Angeles to pursue stand-up comedy. Wendy was going into politics and her next stop would likely be Virginia. Tweek was going to community college to manage the coffee shop. Craig just didn't give a crap about college.

You think between his grandfather leaving for a nursing home when he was nine, his parents divorcing - and getting back together - multiple times, a slight addiction to alcohol and whiskey, not to mention the kind of insanity and chaos that defined his entire life, that Stan Marsh would be used to the idea of things around him changing. But no, he had always escaped it - they visited his grandfather to this day, his parents always ended up back together, and the entire reason he pursued alcohol was to hide the changes to his mental state.

Stan hated to think about his parents growing old together, arguing, his friends all spread across the nation, crazy shit still happening in the most fucked-up place on Earth without level-headed inhabitants to even things out... but most of all, he hated to think about the life he'd lived and was about to leave behind. No more Hell's Pass Hospital, or City Wok, or Raisins, or any of that. Not even Stark's Pond, the location that had initiated his first romantic relationship, and solidified the friendships that defined his life on that faithful August night... how many years ago had it been now? Ten? He was getting old.

"Stan?" He knew that voice. Stan turned to face Kyle Broflovski, who had changed as much as him. His earthly brown eyes, often studious and serious, were soft and reflecting, his auburn locks spilling out from under the green ushanka and over his face. The slightly chubby Jewish boy shivered and zipped up his orange-and-green coat. "Dude, are you okay?" It was funny, Stan and Kyle had seldom spoken in their late High School years, and yet that unspoken bond of friendship was still there, and binding strongly.

"We're never going to see each other again." Stan replied, "You're going to go do your thing, and I'm going to go do my thing... and that's it, Kyle. That's it. We're going to be at graduation all 'oh, I'll call you over break and stuff' and we won't. We'll get lazy, make new friends and forget all about each other." Stan sighed. Kyle put a hand on his back,

"Dude, I could never forget you. You've been my best friend my whole life. I mean, sure, some people just throw away that kind of stuff, like Cartman, but... a friendship's only as valuable as the work you put into keeping it, and we've risked our lives for each other before... I don't think living some more miles apart is going to change anything." Kyle smiled.

"I don't know, dude... things are different now, you know? These things don't always last forever. Look at your and Kenny's dads, they were super close and now they can't stand each other." He sighed, "What's the point of even forging friendships if they aren't going to last?"

"Stan, you don't get it, that's exactly it. A friendship is as important as we let it be, and if we really give a crap about each other, then we will go that extra mile to keep our friendship going, or at least if it starts to die down, we'll reconnect later. And if never meant much to begin with... then yeah, then we'll never see each other again. And maybe that's okay. Maybe that way we don't hold on to our false friendships and realize which ones actually matter."

Stan looked over at the water and breathed in, then looked at his best friend, "Hey Kyle?"

Kyle raised an eyebrow, "Yeah?"

POOT. Stan let out a loud, obnoxious fart, and both boys laughed together the same way they had as eight-year-olds.

"That was a good one..." Kyle laughed, "Just like old times..."

"You were, right dude." Stan replied with a grin, "Some things never do change!"


	17. Hats (Stan&Kyle)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

HATS (Stan&amp;Kyle)

"My hat! MY HAT!" Kyle said in disbelief, staring into the middle of the road; his hat now nothing but a decaying flattened mass in the street. Some bastard's car had ran right over it. "Stan, did you see that? That bastard ran over my fucking hat!" he said in anger, "I oughta find that dude and kick his ass!"

"Kyle, it's just a hat, come on..." Stan rolled his eyes as Kyle struggled to hide his curly red jewfro while he sneered and complained, face red with anger as the curly hair above it, "You don't need to get so upset about it. Doesn't your hair insulate your head anyway?"

"That's not the point, Stan!" Kyle shouted, "Don't you get it? My hat means a lot to me! You know that! And your hat means a lot to you! And Kenny's parka means a lot to him! Cartman... well he doesn't really give a crap about anything..." Kyle admitted, "It was more than a hat, it was an extension of myself!"

"Ugh, okay, Kyle, I'm sorry to hear your hat got ran over by a car. Maybe this is a signal to us that it's time for some real change in our lives instead of sticking to the same old formula every week in, and week out."

"Dude, I don't care, I want my fucking hat back." Kyle said, "My mom bought it for me years ago at that old store on Main Street, near Tom's Rhinoplasty; the one with all the old clothes and stuff nobody wants. It got replaced a few years ago when the owner died, remember? How am I going to find another hat like that one?"

"I don't know! Don't you have a bunch of the same hat? I mean, I have a bunch of beanies and coats that are identical. My mom said it makes for easier identification and it means if I get lost again they won't have to print out new signs. The whole family just has a bunch of identical clothes. It's really weird."

"...dude, that's fucked up." Kyle shook his head, "Come on in, maybe we can look for hats on eBay after I tell my parents what happened." he suggested. Stan nosbridgepinched, shutting his eyes,

"Do you really need to talk to your parents about it? Jesus Christ, it's a hat." Kyle glared, then went to the door and rang it, Stan still nosebridgepinching behind him, "I'm going to see you in, like, half an hour, dude. I have to go take care of something..."

"See you, Stan!" Kyle called out as Stan walked off. Sheila answered the door,

"Oh, bubbe, it's so good to see you! How was scho- Kyle, where is your hat?" she panicked, "Oh no, did one of those mean, sixth-grade boys take it again?"

"No, ma, some drunken asshole ran over it with his car." Kyle explained, "Do we have any more in the house?" he asked her but his mother shook her head. Naturally. Kyle sighed, covering his head, "I guess I'll be in my room then..."

"Are you all right, bubbe? You look so down..." Sheila said, rubbing his curly auburn hair, "How about I make you some Kosher Fried Chicken, maybe that'll cheer you up." she said, entering the kitchen. Kyle sighed,

"Sounds cool then I guess, mom..." Kyle went up to his room sighing and sitting at his desk by the window, hands on his face. He felt incomplete. He didn't feel like Kyle Broflovski anymore. It just wasn't the same. He felt like he'd lost his entire identity with the loss of that hat. Maybe it was stupid, but the hat had become a part of him in the way nobody could understand... it was like a symbol. A symbol of who he was. His whole life people had always associated that hat with him...

"Bubbele, you have a visitor!" Sheila called as Kyle got up and opened the door seeing Stan looking relaxed and holding a box, "I'll leave you two boys alone now." Sheila trusted Stan and left them both to their machinations. Stan sighed and handed Kyle the box without a word. Kyle raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. Stan sighed,

"Look there, just take it if it'll make you quit your f*ggy bitching about that stupid hat." Kyle opened the box and, lo and behold, it was a hat identical to the one he lost - a green ushanka. He took it out and carefully got it on over his jewfro, hugging Stan tightly, "Godammit Kyle, why do you have to be such a gaywad? It's a hat."

"You're too good to me..." Kyle said, sounding as if he was in tears, before he pulled away and was stifling laughter, "Fft, you're the one who just happened to have a hat identical to mine, f*g!"

"My mom bought it because she thought it would be 'cute', okay? I think your hat is stupid, remember? I just took it back so you'd stop being such a whiny pussy." Stan told him teasingly, with a bit of a smirk.

"Oh, I'm sorry, who was the one jealous about me being paired with Wendy for a school assignment, hm? Who's the whiny pussy now?" teased Kyle back with a laugh, giving a light, affectionate punch.

"You're such a f*g dude." Stan chuckled, "Oh, hey, did I tell you I got that new Batman: Arhkam City Xbox game? I have to show it to you, it's the best game freakin' ever!" Stan ran off, Kyle adjusting his hat and running after.

"Hey, wait up!"

Maybe, just like the hats, they'd become a part of each other


	18. Zombies (Gen, Stan-centric)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

ZOMBIES (gen)

Stan Marsh was a fan of Call of Duty it went without saying. Everyone knew not to fuck with him playing CoD online. loves2spooge was a name not to be mentioned aloud. Unless, of course, your name was Terrance Sheldon Mephesto, and your favorite thing was fucking with mad science, and your favorite guinea pigs happened to go by the collective last name Marsh. Lucky for Stan, however, Terrance had no interest in Call of Duty.

He also loved zombies, however, and therefore, Nazi Zombies was one of his favorite things in the goddamn world. Unfortunately, Cartman, Kenny and Kyle were too busy to play. But hell if Stan was going to play alone.

"Awh Stan, it's so nice of you to be up for some male bonding with your family, huh!?" Randy Marsh grinned as he held the Xbox controller, "This is going to be so fucking fun, I know it! You've been in your room so much lately doing God knows what I was starting to get worried."

"In his room all the time, huh?" The third player for Stan today was his Uncle Jimbo, "Stan, me and Ned are proud of you beginning a journey of self-exploration that'll lead you to becoming a real man." Uncle Jimbo, you have no idea... "After Randy was telling us how much time you spend with your mother, we were starting to wonder-"

"Can we just play the game?" Stan really didn't want to hear them speculate on his personal habits. What he wo- did when he was alone or with his mother was not their business. He took his perch at the window...

"Hey Stan, look, I can see you!" Randy's character ran right up to Stan.

"Dad, get your own window!" Stan said angrily as he kept his weapon pointed out towards the zombies.

"Mm how do you shoot with this thing?" Ned asked, trying to figure out the Xbox controller one handed. He was used to actual guns. Not any of these buttons and shit. Jimbo took the controller,

"I think it goes like- oh no, we're crouching, hold on, no, that's jump..." while Jimbo and Ned struggled with their controllers, zombies broke through the barriers, proceeding to attack everyone.

"Godammit, can't you guys just shoot them?" Stan said in annoyance, shooting as much as he could, "Dad, you're supposed to shoot the zombies, not me!" Randy was spinning around and shooting absent-mindedly.

"Awh, but this is fun, Stan, look at us, we're bonding!"

"Shut up and shoot the fucking zombies!" Stan said loudly as Randy began shooting all around.

"Mm wait I think I have the hang of this now." Ned finally got to his own controller and began shooting - fairly mediocre given, again, one arm, but he didn't do completely terrible. Jimbo, returned to his own controller, meanwhile, tried to shoot only to realize he'd already been killed.

"Awh, dammit, the zombies got me! Can someone heal me?"

"Me and Shelly are back from the store." came Sharon's voice as she entered the room, "Oh Stan, I got you the cutest outfits this time, they- oh, Randy, Jimbo, Ned, I didn't know you were all home." Sharon sounded a bit more reserved now.

"Yeah, we're playing Call of Duty with Stan, it's male bonding, heheh!" Randy grinned, dancing out his moves, "Awh, crap, I died, too!"

"Mmm, me too." Ned said as Stan tossed his controller down,

"You guys suck! I'd rather play this game with Grandpa, Shelly and mom than the three of you!"

"...Randy, I'm telling you, that boy's gonna grow up so queer he'll be dressing in womens' clothes." Jimbo shook his head as he and Ned made way for the door.

"Come on Jimbo, dressing up in womens' clothes isn't queer... it's just strange. There's a difference." Randy pointed out. Jimbo shook his head and opened the door,

"We're going to go hunting with some real guns, you guys play with your weird fake video ones and tell us when you two wanna do some REAL man stuff." Jimbo closed the door behind him and his friend as they left.

"Whatever." Stan yelled, then returned, "All right, mom, Shelly, grandpa, you ready?" he asked as each held their controllers, "One, two, three, go!"


	19. Bra (KennySharon)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

BRA (Kenny/Sharon)

"Hey Stan, I was just in the bathroom... what's this?" Kenny asked, raising an arm and hanging it from it was a sizable hot pink bra with a bow in the middle and light, soft lace over the top of each cup. His smirk raised as Stan's frown grew stronger,

Stan shook his head, "No no no, Kenny, we're not doing this."

"Dude, it's totally your mom's." Kenny grinned almost childishly, hugging it like some kind of rare, special toy he'd saved up his money for and finally got, "Oh man, I can figure our what size she is. You think they're D-cups or Double D's?"

"Dude, Kenny, that's fucking sick." Stan crossed his arms, "What if she comes in and finds you with it?"

"It's worth it..." Kenny salivated as he held it up into the light, "God Stan, you're so lucky you got to suck these tits as a baby, I swear to God..."

"Stop quoting Superbad and give it to me, Kenny!" Stan said, loud enough to be intimidating, but quiet enough his parents couldn't hear.

"Stan, you don't understand how important this is to me..." Kenny breathed in, "All my life, your mom's been one of the hottest chicks I've had any sort of regular contact with. She's like, the most beautiful woman I've been close enough to touch, and I finally have a piece of her that's actually mine, and you just want to rip it from me after all my hard work and shit. What kind of a bro does that?"

"...dude, your mom has bigger boobs than mine, Kenny." Stan shot back, crossing his arms.

"Shut up." Kenny sneered, "I'm gonna smuggle it home in my parka." he smirked again now, holding it out one last time when somebody grabbed his arm,

"No, dude, give it back, that's my mom's!" Stan said angrily, arm-wrestling Kenny for his mother's bra, er, her honor. Whatever, all he knew was he had to get that bra out of Kenny's pesky hands. God knows whatever he'd do with it would probably involve tissue papers and lotion.

"Come on, man!"

"No dude, give it to me!"

"But braaa..." Kenny whined as Stan finally tore it from his arms, holding it over his head,

"Finally!" Just as Stan stood up as a deciesive victor, his door opened, and his older sister Shelly scowled, looking embarassed, stringy brown hair framing her face,

"Turd, have you seen my- oh Jesus Christ." she snatched it from his hands, "We're gonna have to have a talk about personal spaces later, TURD." She shook a fist, glared, and left.

"Wow Stan, your sister must be bustier than I thought!" Kenny smirked with excitement.

"Shut the fuck up, dude." Stan replied.


	20. Gardening (WendyTowelie)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

GARDENING (Wendy/Towelie)

"I'm sober, bitch, I don't need no fuckin' babysitter to help me keep track of washcloth, the kid doesn't do shit!" Towelie said angrily to his girlfriend Rebecca as she stood in the door, who's face was obscured as contractual obligations decree. She was dressed in a fancy coat and preparing to leave for the evening.

"Don't you raise your fucking voice at me!" she narrowed her eyes, "I invited a very nice girl, she'll watch washcloth way better than you can you fucking pathetic excuse for a towel!"

"Fuck you, bitch!" Towelie said angrily as crying came from another room, "See, look, you made Washcloth cry you fuckin' bitch. You always make the fuckin' kid cry! Maybe if you let me get a little high once in a while, I could take care of him better!"

"You've been sober for a year and a half now Towelie, don't you fucking screw this up!" Rebecca told her, as Wendy entered the door, eyes wide,

"Um, I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" There was no domstic *violence* going on so Wendy wouln't make a big issue... besides would a towel count legally speaking?

"No, everything's fine, I'm off to get my nails done, you watch my good-for-nothing husband and son, okay? Thanks." Rebecca left, slamming the door behind her.

"Uhh... so where is the little one?" Wendy asked quietly, a little intimidated by what was not exactly a friendly work environment. Towelie walked up to her and grabbed her hand, dragging her in the direction of Washcloth,

"I'll show you were that little bastard son o' bitch is from..." And then Towelie lead her into the kitchen and finally to the sink, where washcloth lay, "He's drying off, see he got himself all wet and doesn't know how to wring himself out."

"Oh, I see... um, so what else do you have around here?" Wendy asked, Towelie shrugged,

"Well, in back, we have an organic garden, me and Washcloth were workin' in there when he got all wet." Towelie guided her through the halls into the garden, because it's 4:15AM and I'm sick and I don't feel like detailing every little step, and then he opened the doors into a marvelous organic greenhouse - filled with tomatoes, fresh vegetables, bushes, everything you could possibly imagine. Watering cans were everywhere. "Uh, don't mind those plants in the far back, that's, uh, Towelie's private garden... got some, uh, rare South American herbs growin' in there."

She approached a curious-looking, wilting light green plant that seemed to be slowly nearing death, "Everything looks great... but that one tomato plant looks kinda wilted. Here." Wendy picked up the watering can, which was surprisingly heavy and tumbled backward, water soaking her hair, hat and shirt. Good thing for dark colors, at least nothing showed through. "Awh, crap!"

"Oh, here, let me help you, I'm great at cleanin' spills!" And with that, Towelie attached his two dimensional self to Wendy's chest, and she bit her lip, unsure whether to mumble a thanks or emit a bloodcurling scream as she felt the towel absorb the water that was currently wettening her neck, breasts and stomach. "Hold on, just a sec..."

"Towelie..." Wendy wasn't sure how to reply as the towel continued to practically massage her torso, and then suddenly she could've sworn she heard a noise akin to, no, identical to that of a motorboat like one'd use at the ocean. And then the towel uncurled and left her after several dry moments, "Um... thanks?"

"Anytime, and I do mean anytime." Towelie winked as he picked up the can and watered the plant as Wendy looked down, almost ashamed. Then she smirked, narrowing her eyes at Towelie,

"So... are you and Rebecca still romantic ever?"


	21. Beep (KennyBeth)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

BEEP (Kenny/Beth)

"Kinny, get off her!" A fat, plump boy with a body twice as wide as his head, which was already twice as fat as a regular person's, cried.

"No way Cartman, she is HOT." Kenny, a boy in an orange hood with blonde hair was hugging on to a girl as wide as the first boy, with a pair of breasts bigger than her face, with only a bit of blonde hair visible for one to know she had one.

"Get off Beth, she's mah bitch, brah." said Cartman angrily.

"What size is her bra?"

"Kinny godammit, quit it, she's MAH bitch, not your's"

"Cartman, you couldn't get a bitch if you paid one."

"Uh clearly I can, Beth gets $150 a week, brah."


	22. Pop (CraigLizzy)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

POP (Craig/Lizzy)

"So Blondie, tell me what's this game that you find so fun." said a boy with a chullo over long raven hair.

"Craig, shhh!" a blonde hooded under a pink-and-gray coat put a thin finger to her lips. She pointed to a window and handed Craig a small purple spherical object.

"Lizzy, are you serious?" she nodded, and Craig grinned wildly, "Okay, on three."

Lizzy nodded, "One, two..."

"Three." Craig said, tossing something from his hands into the window, unleashing a SPLASH! Lizzy giggled.

"HEY! WHO DID THAT?" Mr. Adler looked out his window, but Lizzy and Craig were firmly down in the bushes, invisible to him, "QUIT SCREWIN' AROUND OUT THERE! YOU ALL SCREW AROUND TOO MUCH!"

"Water ballooning the teachers. Best idea ever." Craig smirked.

"And how do you plan to repay me for showing you such a brilliant use of time?" she smirked, moving closer to him.

"I like where this is going, Blondie."


	23. Squish (KarenMole)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

SQUISH (Karen/Mole)

SQUISH!

"You shouldn't have done that." pointed out a small, thin girl with brown hair.

"'zun what? Eet waz a ztoopid bug." replied a French boy holding a shovel.

"It had a life. You shouldn't have just killed it. Shook it, gave it a chance to fly at least..."

"Zat do you know? You're a ztoopid leetle girl, Karen."

"I'm a stupid little girl? Right, right... tell me when you've experienced your family fighting in front of you several times, watched both of your brothers and your father die hundreds of times and be POWERLESS to stop it... pray tell me, Christophe, when you've had to sit through Hell itself WEEKLY?"

There was a long, awkward pause.

"...eh, fine, I apologize, zat's what you want, eezn't eet?"

"Apologize to the ladybug, Christophe."


	24. Family (KarenMole)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

FAMILY (Karen/Mole)

"I can't believe we're finally gonna meet your new boyfriend, Karen." Stuart McCormick said with surprise, adjusting his bowtie on his crappy, torn-up suit, his family standing near to the door. His sixteen-year-old daughter was shaking her hands with delight, wearing pink dress, her hair curled in an inconsistent, and ametuer way. Hey, they couldn't afford curlers.

"You'll love him, dad, he's the best!" Karen said excitedly. She'd been dating a new guy for over a month now and the McCormicks hadn't met him yet, not even her brother Kenny, who was wearing his favorite blue tuxedo over the orange jacket that obscured all but his bright blue eyes.

"So, what else can you tell us about him, Karen?" Kenny asked, standing next to a slightly older boy with messy brown hair poorly combed, braces, and wearing a black suit, looking less mentally sound than he in fact was supposed to be.

"Well, he's about your age, and he has a really cool accent, and he seems like kind of an asshole but deep down he's really sweet." Karen smiled.

"I don't think I like the sound of this guy." her mother piped in, an attractive woman in her early forties with fiery red hair and wearing a tattered lime-green dress.

"You'll like him, mom, just wait." Karen smiled as the doorbell ring, "There he is now!" Stuart shrugged, opening the door to show a boy around twenty with a dishelved face, bandages in some areas, with messy dark brown curls, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and an apathetic face, wearing a black T-shirt, bandolier and fingerless gloves on hism uscular physique. "Hi Christophe!"

"'ello 'zere. Zey call me... ze Mole." he said simply, tossing away the cigarette, "I vas told 'zere would be dinner here tonight?" Kenny looked like he'd dropped something.

"Oh, right, uh, we were just going to the kitchen to have some... pop tarts and frozen waffles." Carol reported, hands on her hips as she looked over the young man. He was definitely not her daughter's type, she thought - too gruff and mean for her, in Carol's opinion.

"'zoundsz dezent." Mole said simply, lighting another cigarette in seemingly an instant. As a mercenary, he was used to eating crap all the time. Frozen waffles were among the better things he'd been served.

"...you're... okay with that?" Carol raised an eyebrow, confused, looking to her husband for support.

"I don't 'ave a problem 'viz eet." Mole shrugged, "I 'ave eaten vorse."

"...you've eaten worse?" Kevin, the oldest boy finally spoke, stunned, looking to his sister's boyfriend.

"Yez, I 'ave... eez 'zat going to be a problem?" Mole asked, eyes narrowed, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

"N-no, of course not, please, do come in." Carol offered, moving aside for the family to enter the dining room. Karen grinned and took her boyfriend's hand, quickly leading him by two seats,

"Here, I'll find a place for Sarkozy." Karen offered, taking his shovel off his back as Mole's eye twitched.

"Sarkozy?" Kenny let out a chuckle, "Sounds like someone's getting..." Kenny and Mole's voices unified in an unholy alliance, "'kozy with Sarkozy." Kenny may have laughed but Mole was not amused.

"Very funny." Mole rolled his eyes in annoyance as he took a seat next to Karen, who grabbed his hand and smiled,

"You know he named the shovel that just for the pun." she chuckled happily. Mole shot a glare but she just smiled back at him like nothing was wrong.

"So, Mr. uh, the Mole, what the hell d'you do for a living?" Stuart asked as he took a seat at the head of the table, "We need more people in this family with good hard-workin' jobs."

"Unlahke this asshole." Carol crossed her arms.

"Hey, it's not my fault I got fired this time. I was good at bein' a photographer!" Stuart sneered.

"Good photographers don't break their goddamn cameras, Stuart." Carol said angrily.

"'ze food, pleaze?" Mole asked, "I am a merzenary-for-'ire. 'zere eez nozing elze to 'zay. I don't like talking about my profezzion."

"No problem, no problem. Is' jus' nice to know somebody can support a goddamn family." Carol shrugged, gettingout the box of pop tarts and box of waffles to cook,

"There you go, running your fucking mouth again!" Stuart got up, "Oh, look at me, I'm Carol, I work at the Olive Garden for minimum wage and don't have any friends!"

Carol put the pop-tarts in the freezer and tossed the open box of waffles down as she took her's out, "Well, lookie here, ahm Stuart, ah drink n' smoke n' beat mah kids and blame mah wife for everythin'! I couldn't get a job even if ah fuckin' tried!"

"Ahm, uh, Justin Bieber, and ah make stupid music videos an' uh spit on people n' shit... an' uh, I thought Anne Frank was hot or somethin'..." Kevin chortled in, getting weird looks, "Well ah dun remember what he really did..." Quietness, "...I jus' wanted to be included 'sall." he said, taking his waffle, the last one, from his younger brother's hands, nomming, "Ah'm sorry... can I jus' have some rum please..."

Stuart piped in, "Well, we're out of rum. And scotch. And whiskey. And vodka. And bourbon. And-"

"Awh, shit." Kevin crossed his arms.

"Do you like your waffle, Mole?" Karen smiled, "You can have half of mine if you like."

"No, eez okay. I'd razzer zave room for ze pop-tarts." Mole dismissed, his waffle already finished.

"It might be a sec or two..." Carol shrugged, when the pop-tarts popped right out of the toaster, much to her surprise. Not a moment too soon, the first two were handed out to Mole and Karen,

"We're guests so we get our's first." Karen smiled excitedly at her boyfriend, whilst her brothers watched them eat jealously and hungrily. The mercenary didn't care to be watched, but didn't feel it was proper etiquette to attack his hosts with Sarkozy, choosing to eat politely and quietly instead.

"More comin'." she handed two more out to her sons, her husband waiting impatiently as the last round was on it's way out.

"So, do you like my family, Christophe?" Karen asked with a smile, eager to make sure her boyfriend approved of her family as much as they approved of him.

"'zey zeem okay." he said again, stretching, "Better 'zan my family." he crossed his arms now.

"What could possibly be worse than us?" Kenny titled his head in confusion.

The mercenary rolled his eyes, "Religious zealots, pure an' zimple." He stood up, "I've 'ad fun but I muzt get going." he nodded, his phone going off, "'zat muzt be Gregory. Duty calls." Karen wrapped her arms around his stomach, "I am zorry, darling, but I do have to go."

"Buuut Chriiiiss..." Karen begged, frowning, eyes widening. She was trying to look her cutest.

"You know by now 'zat does not vork on me." he shook his head. He sighed and kissed her on the cheek, "Au revior, mi amour." he quickly picked up his shovel and quickly made his way out the door. Karen smiled, holding her hands together,

"He's such a sweetie." Karen turned to her family, "Isn't he the best?"

Kenny shrugged, "Well, nobody's perfect."


	25. Child (Kevin MeLinda S)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

CHILD (Kevin/Linda)

She thinks he's a child but he's not.

"Well, Mrs. Stotch, I think your son should make a fully tecovery in just a few days." Dr. Mephesto explained as he leaned on his cane, "Until then he's just going to have to stay here. His explosive diarrhea is too out of control for a conventional hospital."

"Oh dear, my baby..." Linda covered her mouth, worried for her son's sake.

"If you need anything, my assistant Kevin will tend to your needs. I need to go look after some of my creations. Don't wake your son up, he needs the rest right now." Mephesto nodded as he hobbled away, leaving Linda and Kevin virtually alone. Kevin grinned, but Linda only raised an eyebrow. Kevin frowned again - he wanted to tell her he wasn't a child, he had just been created very short. He wanted to tell her she was breathtaking - imperfect, from a scientific standpoint, but maybe that's what attracted him to her. They were both... imperfect creations.

If only he could show her how he felt, let her know that his feelings were true, not a fabric of his imagination. He wanted to show he wasn't just the silent child-like assistant of a mad geneticist, but his own person. If only he knew how... he sighed. He'd never impress her. He didn't have a chance. She was this wonderful, amazing woman like no other he'd encountered, and he was this genetically-engineered piece of scum.

"Hey, do you think you could get me a drink, Mr. Kevin, was it?" Linda asked quietly, arms crossed. Kevin grinned, nodded and dashed away. This might be his once chance to prove himself. He opened the refrigerator. He could do this, he could show her how much he could do, prove this once he wasn't just some scab who messes things up all the- oh shit, he dropped a Coca Cola and now it's squirting all over the place. And he couldn't reach the paper towel dispenser, fuck. He tossed the can into the sink, then sighed and ran into the bathroom and used toliet paper to wipe up what had already squirted out. The ceiling might be a goner, but the counters and floors were fairly clean once he was done.

Finally, he grabbed a Coke and a Pepsi and ran back to her. "Oh, I'm a Pepsi girl myself." he handed her once. He liked Coke but that's okay, differences make us special and all that gay shit. He opened the Coke for himself taking a sip, "I always liked it ever since I was a little girl and saw Michael Jackson do that commercial... well, before all his hair was burned off." she shook her head. Kevin grinned - this was perfect, this was just his chance. Little did she know that Jackson was his own father... sort of. As far as sperm goes anyway. He ran off and came back with a microphone, breathing in to sing his song,

"I am gopher boy, pondering reality! I am gooooopher boy, who will buy my raspberries?" He smiled, and looked at her with an excited grin, holding the microphone and desperately waiting for her to respond. This was his one chance. He'd finally prove himself and show how cool he could be. Linda's jaw dropped, her eyes wide, but she then shut them, and breathed in to respond,

"Holy shit, you can talk!"


	26. Theater (StanWendy)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

THEATRE (Stan/Wendy)

Stan looked out the window. It had by then, been at least a few years since his girlfriend Wendy Testaburger had dumped him. He sighed. He would never be able to date her again. Never feel her silky hair, never look into her eyes, never get to kiss her lips again. He would've never heard his phone ringing too if he was too busy thinking about her.

After a minute he remembered and grabbed it. "Hello?" Stan asked. He heard the voice of Kyle Brofolvski, his best friend. "Hey Stan. Me and Kenny were going to the movies to see Friday the 13th Part XI. We have an extra seat, want to come with?" he said. Stan thought for a second. "Stan? STAN? Hello?" he said. Stan returned to the world. "Yeah, sure." he said.

Stan walked out of his bed, where he had started sitting. He opened a drawer and pulled out his brown coat, his red gloves and his trademark hat. The same one he met Wendy in. He began day dreaming, before he returned to the Earth as Shelley screamed something. He quickly threw on his coat and buttoned it on, then he slipped his gloves on his hands.

For a split second, he though his phone rang. Believing it to be his imagination, he ignored it. Every day for the past year this would happen. He put on his hat and opened his door, only to be horrified by the sight of brown hair, disgusting braces, huge hips and the ugliest dull pink sweater he'd ever seen. "Where are you going turd?" narrowed his sister, Shelley. "Where are you going?" Stan asked.

"I have a date with Kevin." she said. "I'm seeing a movie with Kyle and Kenny." said Stan. His sister ruffed her brown hair. "Fine, TURD." she said. Shelley had been going out with Kenny's brother Kevin McCormick for almost a month now. The thought of being Kenny's brother-in-law was actually pretty good in Stan's mind, plus it kept Shelley out of the house.

"Stanley, where are you going?" called a tall woman. She had brown hair on her head, and had a slim, sexy body. "Sharon, don't pester him." said Randy, the black-haired moustached father of Stan in his usual blue shirt and indigo pants. Sharon punched him in the ribs. "OW! I mean - yes, where are you going?" he said. "I'm going to the movies with Kyle and Kenny." he said.

"Okay, have fun, Stanley!" said Sharon and she bent down and kissed him on the forehead. "Yeah, Stan, have fun, okay?" said Randy. "Yeah, Yeah." said Stan and he walked out the door. Shelley was going towards Kenny's house to see Kevin, and Stan was heading for the movie theater. He then bumped into something short. He fell over and looked up to see a blue towel with white lines, along with arms and legs.

"Towlie?" asked Stan. The towel sat there. "You wanna get high?" it asked. "Towlie, what the hell are you doing here?"asked Stan. "I need some slabs man. C'mon you got some slabs?" he said. Towlie was quite clearly high. "I don't have any slabs." said Stan, before getting a mean but funny idea. "That brown-haired girl has slabs. Go follow her!" said Stan, and Towlie got up and ran after her.

Stan walked uninterrupted for a few blocks before coming upon South Park Theater. Several strangers were coming out of the theater. He slipped in between them and walked in. A boy wearing a green ushanka and in an orange coat was in the line for Popcorn. "Oh, I was getting some popcorn Stan." said the boy, Kyle, in a dreamy voice.

"Where's Kenny?" asked Stan. "Saving our seats of course!" said Kyle. The lady at the stand passed Kyle a large bag of popcorn. "C'mon let's go." he said. Stan followed Kyle into a door and saw the seats filled except for a few near the top and three or so in the front, the middle of them occupied by a boy wearing an orange parka coat. His muffled voice was familiar, "Hi guys!"

"Hey, Kenny." said Stan, as he sat down in his seat. Kyle sat down next to him. Suddenly a familiar voice called out, "The Jew's here?". Stan saw the fat, pudgy shape of Eric Cartman sitting next to Kyle. He was not wearing his cap, and his red shirt was easily seen. "Dammit." he said. "Tsk, tsk, play nice you two!" said Kenny's muffled voice, and then Cartman shot him a nasty look.

"And she was all like 'yeah'-" said a high-pitched voice Stan recognized just too much. He turned to see a familiar little girl, with long black hair, deep eyes and a pink beret. It was Wendy Testaburger. Stan was horrified, and completely ignored the fighting. Kenny tapped Stan's shoulder. "You okay, dude?" he asked. "I'm fine, Kenny, it's just-" he began, but Kenny stopped him. "Lemme guess - Wendy?" he said.

"Yeah." sighed Stan. "Don't worry about that bitch, you can pick her up and ride her ass another time!" said Kenny. Stan punched his ribs. "Dude, you know I'm not in her for the sex." he said. Kenny laughed, and simply replied, "I know, I wanna f*ck her too." said Kenny. Stan raised his arm about to punch, "I was joking!" said Kenny. "I don't care for her, and even if I did, you like her Stan!"

"Yeah, fine Kenny." he said, sitting down. Then the screen went black and in seconds, the image of a madman slashing the screen came. Stan overheard a whispery voice, "Bebe this movie looks scary. Are you sure he'll be here? He never told me he liked scary movies." Stan then realized it was Wendy. She must've been talking about her boyfriend Token.

The moments crept by as the madman hacked teenagers as usual. Stan never liked scary movies, but he was somewhat enjoying this one. Suddenly his stomach rumbled. "I have to go the bathroom guys." he said, and got up, only just hearing the whispers of "See ya." as he finally headed for the bathroom. As soon as he entered, a black boy with a purple shirt and a yellow T was there.

"Oh, hey Stan." said Token Black. "How's Wendy?" Stan asked bitterly. "I'm sure she's fine." he said. "What do you mean, you're sure?" asked Stan. "Didn't anybody tell you? We broke up a while ago." he said. "Oh." said Stan. He than ran into a stall to go. "See ya around." said Token, and Stan said, "See ya Token." and sat down on the toliet.

When he was done, Stan quietly got up. He walked out and into the theater again. The madman had just slashed apart a girl resembling Wendy. Stan nearly screamed in anger, but held back. As he passed Wendy's seat, a shiver went down his back. Finally, he sat between Kyle and Kenny. "No way you f*cking jew, Jason doesn't have crap on Myers!" he said. Wendy said "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" and Stan shook.

"Relax!" whispered Kyle. The movie went on and on for another hour before Stan almost fell asleep. He then heard a murmur. "You see that? He hates the movie!" said Wendy's voice. "Wendy, quiet down, you know how Bertha gets!" said the golden-haired girl next to her, Bebe. "I don't care about Bertha, I care about him!" she said.

Stan still couldn't figure out who she was talking about. "Listen Wendy, if you really love him, you can just go down there, grab him and go into the lobby and ask him." said Bebe. "Maybe I will!" said Wendy. Suddenly there was a scream from the movie and Stan's head went up. "Stan's head got an erection." whispered Kenny, and Stan 'accidentally' spilled soda all over Kenny.

Suddenly, Stan felt something like a dark movement in his chest. He didn't even realize Kyle was looking right at him. "What is it Kyle?" he asked. Kyle's eyes bulged with fear before Kyle turned to admire the movie. "That was weird." said Stan, and Kenny whispered, "More like Queer'd" said Kenny. "Dude, what are you talking about?" said Stan. "I think Kyle likes you." said Kenny.

Stan ignored the comment, and was very angry now, and ignored everything, before he realized that his hand was being shook by a girl. "Stan! Are you okay?" asked Wendy. "Wendy!" said Stan and he fell aback. "Kyle and Kenny sent me to come find you." she said, with an odd tone in her voice. "Wendy I-" he began, but Wendy's fingers were on his lips.

"You love me, Stan?" she said. Stan's eyes turned at her smiling face, and he smiled. He reached his face up and leaned in, and Wendy closed her eyes and leaned down, and they then touched in a kiss. In the background, red-haired Bertha was holding hands with Kenny. "We did good." she said. Bebe and Kyle were holding hands as well. "All of us did."

And they left that day knowing that Stan and Wendy were back together for good.


	27. Kenny's Dilemma (Gen)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

KENNY'S DILEMMA (gen)

Mom asked Kevin to take me with him to the skate park. I didn't really want to go, but now, it seems that going to the skate park was the even worse than I anticipated. My eight-year-old brother Kevin walked to the Skate park.

"Stay here, shrimp." he said. I just sat down. "Like I could go anywhere?" I said. I was bored. I could feel my stomach do a somersault. I thought I was just hungry, but I would soon realize this was my body's way of warning me something bad will happen.

Kevin got his skateboard out. The one with the blue shark sticker on it and the cool white letters saying The Great White on it. I watched as Kevin got on his board. His brown hair curled into his helmet, making him look dorky. Someone tapped my shoulder.

"Wha?" I said. I turned to see a kid with gray hair, and mud all over him. He made my poor family look rich. "My name's Dog poo." he said. "Hello, dog poo. My name's Kenny." I said, shaking hands with him. "Is that big kid you're brother?" he said, pointing to Kevin doing some trick.

"Yep, that's Kevin." I replied. "Oh." he said. "Bye." he said and walked away. I didn't care. I watched Kevin. Suddenly, Kevin started going fast and even I could tell, a little too fast. A few moments later, before I even realized it, Kevin was sprawled down. He was all muddy and dirty. He ran by him as fast as I could.

"K-k-kevin, are- are you ok?" I asked. Kevin didn't respond. His friend walked up. "Little dude, I'm sure you're bro's 'kay." He said. He walked over and came back soon with an adult. "He's breathing. He should be fine soon." said the adult. The man had gray hair, and wore a green shirt and dark blue trousers. He sempt to be in his forties. "Thanks, Mr. Paterson." my brother's friends said.

I walked away with my brother's unconcious body. I saw some scared looks from some kids - even 11-year-old Scott T. looked at me funniest, he looked like he just saw the world's largest pile of vomit. Butters also sempt to want to vomit his guts out.

Eventually I got home. Mom and Dad nearly screamed when they saw Kevin. "Kenny, go outside and play with yer friends, kay? she said. "Kay." I replied. I went to the playground. I looked around. I recognized almost everyone.

Even the boy with the black hair under his blue-and-red hat - his name was Stanley, he was playing on the swings with Wendy, a black-haired girl. I remember one time when my brother came to watch me, he said, he could see them kissing in the future.

"The perfect couple." he said. I hated romace, yet I admitted they looked to make a good couple. I sat down on the teeter-totter. I honestly was scared. I wanted to be alone after the accident. I had never witnessed anyone get hurt really before.

I thought about me as an 8-year-old riding on a skateboard, and suddenly I go too fast. Way too fast and soon I accidentally skate off of the skateboard and land into a fence, my body oozing the reddest blood. Stan stood there and said, "Oh my god!" and the other boy, Kyle replied, "That bonehead."

I shivered in fear. I hated death. I had only died once in my life - when I was two, I got Butters and Tweek to try buring me in sand at the beach. But they buried me to death, and I went to Hell for a few days. I met Damien, who was eating cookiees while watching 'Friday the 13th Part VII' (He noticebly twitched whenever anyone died)

Suddenly, I returned to earth, when I saw a kid I'd never seen before in the three-years since my birth. "Hello, asshole." he said. "Er, hello?" I said. "What's yer stupid name?" he said. "I'm Kenny." I said. "M' name's Cartman." he said. The boy was fat and had fuzzy brown hair and he wore a red jacket.

"I ain't seen you hear before." I replied. "I don't go to parks. They're totally for jacks." he said. "Wanna play ball?" I asked. The only game I ever played was catch, and I'd ask anyone I ever met. Butters would play every once in a while and once I got Stan and Kyle to play, but overall, nobody would play. "Sure, jackass." he said.

We played catch for an hour, and then everyone went home. Me and Cartman became best friends, and eventually Wendy and Stan started going out. Not soon after those events, Me and Cartman became friends with Stan and Kyle.

And I don't regret any of it.


	28. Kenny's Parka (Gen)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

KENNY'S PARKA (gen)

I was four.

I was playing with Eric by the swingset...We always would play there by the park, but we never used the Swings. We played "Kickball" - it wasn't the real kickball game, but it involved kicking and a ball, so we made up the name that coincidentially was real. Stan, Kyle, Wendy and Butters were on the swings, swining joyfully.

Eric and I kicked the ball at a tree, it bounced back and knocked Eric over. "Goddammit" he said, as he fumbled back up and grabbed the ball. He tried again, with the same result. I let out a laugh.

"Cartman," I said.

He seemed to be angry, but somewhat joyful. That same look on his face he always had - a look of mixed greed, guilt, desire, wanting, anger and happiness. It was hard to tell the many moods of Eric Cartman apart, and he wasn't exactly open. I caught him staring at Wendy a lot - I rarely commented, it offended him when I did.

"Dude, stop watching Wendy."

"Shaddap, asshole, jes kick teh damn ball!"

But we had been silent for most of today, and today, Cartman was the one who decided to break our silence.

"Ya wanna come oveh afteh this, Kenneh?" he asked, in his usual voice.

"Sure," I replied. I was cold, to be honest. I was only in my dark blue T-shirt and my orange sweatpants - the only clothes I had.

Cartman grabbed the ball, and as we began to walk he turned to the others on the swing. "Any of yeh guys wanna come oveh to mah house?" he asked. Wendy gave a confused notion, Butters didn't seem to notice, Kyle held back a laugh, and Stan took the courage to say "No"; I had learned Cartman was quite unpopular.

After about ten minutes, we reached Cartman's house. His mother, a woman named Liane Cartman carried a tray filled with cookies. Cartman took one and ate it hungirly. I placed my hand on my stomach. "Take one, hun," she said. I smiled and ate the cookie, it was delicious - it was like a MEAL.

"Aneh-weh, Kenneh," said Cartman in his usual voice, as he got on the floor and stuck a somewhat pudgy arm under the couch. "I got 'dis for yeh." and pulled out a small red box. "I figured, it gets cold and I know how you hate teh cold...It didn't fit meh anyway...Grandmah got it for meh."

I pulled out a long orange towel. But it wasn't a towel, I quickly realized. It was a a thick, orange jacket...not very slim, but still it could never fit Cartman, probably would be too big for me. "Go on, try it on, fag." I had learned not to listen to Cartman's insults, but I did try it on. I pulled it over my head, and looked out - it fit alright.

"Thanks Cartman. You're a good friend."

"Yeah, whateveh.." said Cartman. I could tell Cartman really meant 'You are too', but he never was the kind of person who had a lot of friends. He just didn't know how to treat a friend, so he hurled abuse like he did to his enemies...like what he did to Kyle, when they first met during the Fourth of July...

We walked out the door, and I prepared to head home. "See ya, Cartman," came my normal, clear high-pitched voice.

"Seeya, Kenneh," said Cartman, and he slammed the door. Suddenly, I felt a chill. It was much colder outside than I expected. My face and hands stung from the cold, but my body and legs were fine. I put on two brown gloves I carried around for emergency. I reached up at the parka strings and pulled it tight...just enough to keep my eyes and nose visible. Some tufts of hair clung out from the hood.

Finally, I took out my old scarf and wrapped it around to keep my hood on good. I was well and warm. I decided to go return home. Perhaps Kevin would show me how to make toys...


	29. Parents (StanAnnie)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

PARENTS (Stan/Annie)

Annie Faulk sat outside Park County High, hands on her cheeks. Once again, her mother had humiliated her in front of everybody, showing up to bring her the lunch she forgot at home and stopping to criticize her looks for several minutes. Okay, so maybe brown didn't make her stand out, and maybe she should grow her hair longer, and it made sense she should comb it more but... godammit, did her mother have to go in front of everybody and tell her that she looked like a guy? Really?

She wished she had somewhere to turn to for advice, but a lot of her friends would probably agree with her mom, superficial as they were, and she didn't trust any of the teachers or school staff much. So she was stuck here, alone, wallowing in her own pity and misery about it. And she hated herself just as much for that urge to whine in her head about it, than for anything her mother had told her. She was so sick of- Huh?

"Stupid Dad." Stan Marsh took a seat down the steps from her, hands on his own cheeks. The brash so-called jock who didn't give a damn about the game mumbled, "God, I am so sick of him humiliating me all the time! He seemed so smart when I was in the third grade and ever since then it's like he's been trying to act stupider and stupider every day." Annie was just about to pipe in as Stan continued, "I mean sure I guess, Kenny's Dad's a drunk and all, too, and Kyle's Dad's a little weird, and Cartman doesn't have one, but they never seem to understand how it feels!"

"Your dad does it, too, huh?" Annie piped in suddenly, looking over to him.

"Oh God, no, did I really-" Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up at the sky, "We're going to do it like this, really? I'm going to do some big gay 'Nobody understands' crap and she's going to be Ms. Sympathy? The hell? Is it too much to ask for some goddamn creativity?"

"What?"

"Annie, this asshole here..." Stan pointed towards the sky again, "...thinks we're going to fall for his stupid cliche romance plot!"

"Stan, are you okay?"

"Do you hear me up there? We're sick and tired of your bullshit!" Stan screamed up. Annie just began to slowly move away. There wasn't much more embarassing than this.


	30. Misery (CraigHenrietta)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

MISERY (Craig/Henrietta)

The Goths hated conformists and everything associated with them. They burned down Hot Topics, they smoked, they drank coffee at places not owned by the Tweek family, they dressed in black and they avoided dance troupes. Craig, however, was not a conformist. He hated everything about conformists - yet he hated everything about the Goths. Therefore, they had nothing but respect for him.

Henrietta sat alone in a booth at the Village Inn. Benny's was still crawling with vampires and preps and she was never going to seet foot in Harbucks or Tweek Bros. Coffee. The other Goths were busy with stupid shit. She sighed - she was lonely and miserable. Perfect. She was revelling in her own gothishness, in a way. And then the bell rang, "Evening." she said, waiting to see which conformist would walk out. But it wasn't a conformist.

Craig Tucker walked right past her and up to the counter and ordered, then approached Henrietta "Hey there, Goth chick." Craig said apathetically, "Where's your stupid crew?" he asked simply, raising an eyebrow. Henrietta rolled her eyes and tried to ignore him. She didn't feel like talking. She just wished to wallow in her pefect misery. But then she loooked at him and sighed,

"Pagan's at work, Razor's visiting his grandparents and Sparrow is trying to kill Vampire kids." she said quietly, taking a long drag from her cigarette as her eyes glanced toward the 'No Smoking' sign, "What are you in for?"

"I'm just bored. Token has a date or something, Kenny won't answer my texts and Clyde was out with Kenny somewhere stupid." Craig said, flipping her off as he moved into the seat across from her. He did not lie or sugarcoat the truth - he was bored. Craig loved boring, but boring was different from boredom. Boredom was the state of doing nothing. Boring was doing something monotonus. He needed things boring.

"Of course you. Life is nothing but boredom and pain. All that truly is, is simply misery. There is nothing else too life but pain, misery and suffering. The conformists try not to understand it but they all know it deep down. They're just afraid." Henrietta said, taking a drag, then sipping her coffee.

"I wish." Craig's middle finger rose gain, "I'd love it if life was that simple. But then there's people like Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and the fat kid who always get into stupid shit and come out enjoying themselves. There's more to life than pain. Believe me, I'd welcome pain. I wish I was that normal."

"Do you know what pain is, twerp? Do you know what misery really is? Don't preach to me about things you don't understand? Life isn't fun and games like all of you think it is. It's complicated, and all it is is suffering and horror. And yet you conformists all act like we don't know what we're talking about... try to walk a mile in our shoes and maybe you'll understand how hard it is to be us."

"This is why I don't like you Goths. You don't understand half the shit you think you do. You spend all of of your time just whining and complaining about how much life sucks, which everyone does, but then you whine and complain about everyone else being optimistic. I mean, yeah, I'm a negative nancy and all that bullshit, but you don't know what optimism really is. If you just sit there and tell yourself life sucks, your life is going to suck. If you give up, then you're done. It's hope and optimism that keep people going and let them live their lives." Craig flipped her off and got down,

"You know, you're pretty smart for a conformist, Craig Tucker." Henrietta said quietly, looking at him as she held her cigarette out, looking at him. Craig rolled his eyes uncaringly and walked to the counteer as Henrietta took another drag, "...for a conformist." she added again, sipping her coffee. Craig took his coffee, looked at her and simply left.

"Friend of your's?" asked the woman at the counter, raising an eyebrow as she leaned over her arms to see Henrietta and make sure she wasn't causing any kind of havooc. You'd be surprised how often the Goth Kids carved up tables or spilled coffee.

"You could say that."


	31. Pop-Tarts (TokenKaren)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

POP-TARTS (Karen/Token)

Like her fellow McCormicks, Karen - though she was more ashamed to admit it - was a colossal pervert. Therefore, it was entirely expectable for her to suddenly become attracted the only black person in town anywhere near her age.

What her family hadn't expected was the richest kid in town staying over for dinner. Carol tried her best to brush together a nice dinner, but despite the family's worry he would think it was too cheap they recieved a different reaction, one they had not anticipated:

"What's a pop-tart?" asked Token Black, eyebrow raised. The McCormick family had dinner ready in moments, but all eyes were on Token, who didn't like getting so much attention. He shrugged and took a bite.

"Do you like it?" Karen asked smiling. Token dropped his pop-tart and his eyes widened as he looked down at his plate. The family exchanged nervous glances.

"This is... amazing! Why, I wish I could eat these for the rest of my life!" Token said as he hungrily gobbled his, "You have to show me your recipe- oh, I bet it's a family secret isn't it?"

"Uh, no... they're pop-tarts. Aisle nine at the market." Carol said, shrugging as she ate her's slowly to savor the taste. It'd be at least three days before they had the money to get more. Frozen waffles until then.

"Thank you." Token hugged Karen, "Without you, I'd never have discovered this... this delicacy." he smiled, as did she, and after a moment, departed his arms, "How can I ever repay you all?"

"Well... there is one thing you could do..." Stuart asked. Token nodded, "...a new house would be pretty nice. Preferably one with a door that can't smash our children." he motioned to Kenny smashed under the front door.

"I'll get right to work." Token said, although in truthfulness houses weren't exactly easy to come by in the town.


	32. Comfort (GaryBebe)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

COMFORT (Gary/Bebe)

Gary Harrison invited every family in town to have dinner at his house at some point. The Harrisons were always happy to have visitors and would cook a nice dinner and make sure theier guests were very comfortable in their selfless, Mormon way. Gary at first did it to boys who tried to bully him but eventually he seemed to do it to every kid at school. Despite this, nobody expected the day he'd go up to the head cheerleader and say, "Hi Bebe! Would your family like to join mine for dinner?"

Bebe was a peppy, fun-loving blonde with a sexual reputation that almost certainly preceded her (and unlike her best friend, was positive in such regard) and naturally she gave a simple, "Sure." and winked. Gary nodded, smiled, shook her hand and left in a way that made Wendy wonder what kind of shit those Mormons eat.

Bebe's family showed up, her mother in a deep, revealing purple dress, her father in a nice blue business suit, Bebe herself in a deep red dress. Red was and always would be her color. Her parents had argued the whole way there. The Harrisons greeted them cheerily and sat them down. After greetings, Mrs. Stevens opened the conversation with, "So is it true you Mormons are allowed more than one wife?"

"Oh, why yes, this is true... but I only need one." Mr. Harrison smiled, ignoring Mr. Stevens' death glare. Mr. Stevens damn well knew his wife was flirting with Harrison, but his brain insisted Harrison was the one staring at his wife's cleavage, rather than his wife gazing toward Mr. Harrison's eyes and smirking. Bebe sat next to Gary, who looked at her, raising an eyebrow, "So Mrs. Stevens, I hear you're a rather intelligent woman."

"Oh yes, everyone always tells me I'm really really smart." Mrs. Stevens flushed. Bebe, meanwhile, poked at her food apathetically. Embarassed - her mother was again being a dumb blonde whore and her father was being a jealous overreactive ass.

"Hey Bebe, you okay?" Gary asked quietly. Bebe looked at him. They were not too different. Generally happy, blonde hair, blue eyes, and Gary was considered a looker among the girls, just as Bebe's boobs made the boys turn into mad ape men. But Bebe was only happy around her friends when she was out and about. Gary's mood never seemed to change. He was almost as bad as Pip but without the accent.

"I'm fine. I love when my parents act like this." she sighed as she poked her food. The meal really did look delicious, but seeing her mom trying to seduce Gary's father and to see her dad preparing to kill Gary's father, well those sights weren't exactly appetizing to her. "I don't really like my family..."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Your parents seem really nice." Gary said, but Bebe sighed, "I know that's not what you want to hear. How about we just talk about you though? What kind of stuff do you like, Bebe?" It wasn't often people asked Bebe about herself, and she tried to avoid talking about herself around people that weren't Wendy.

"Well I like cats, fish, dancing, fashion and... that's it really." Bebe liked a lot of things but trying to list them was actually quite hard. Gary however simply took her hand, smiled, and pulled her out of her chair. He gave his siblings a look and they nodded with an unspoken communication as Gary lead Bebe into the living room. "What are you up to?"

Gary found the CD player, placed a CD in, turned it on and put a hand on one of Bebe's shoulders and took one hand in his, "You said you liked dancing." he smirked as the music began playing. The song began slow and they moved little, but as it picked up, Gary began moving quicker. Bebe followed his lead at first, but eventually they were moving together. Their feet moved together and soon they glided around the floor.

And after a few short moments, their eyes not moving from each other's or their feet, the music stopped, Gary separated and walked her back to her seat. They smiled at each other, and without a word, went back to their meals. Bebe's mind was at peace, and Gary basked in the happiness he had helped Bebe feel more comfortable. After dinner passed the two stood across from each other as the Stevens prepared to leave.

"Well Gary," Bebe smiled and batted her eyelashes, "Hopefully we'll get to see more of each other." she winked.

"I certainly hope so Bebe, I had a lot of fun!" Gary smiled. He smiled directly at her, and there was no lie in his voice. He was not lustful in the way Bebe was being toward him - yet he did not mind her attention.

"See you soon, Gary." Bebe smiled as her family left and got into their car, "That was a lot of fun." Bebe said as she got in the backseat, her father at the wheel. Her mother looked back and smiled at her,

"Those Harrisons are a very nice family." she told her, "Hopefully we'll see them again very soon." Mrs. Stevens winked in her daughter's direction. Bebe wasn't sure whether her mother knew of her new interest or was aware Bebe knew of her mother's.

"Yeah, let's get home... say, is that the Blacks', er, the Black family's car in front of the McCormick's house?" Mr. Stevens replied.


	33. Harry (StanWendy-ish)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

HARRY (Stan/Wendy-ish)

"Mommy, is Uncle Ken here yet?" asked Harold "Harry" Marvin Marsh, age six. He was still very young, with his mother's dark black locks and ocean blue eyes that always were so full of emotion. He was wearing a Dinosaur T-shirt and shorts and looked up at his mother with a wide smile. He was a gentle boy, holding a small toy in his hand. His mother smiled down at him - oh, he was the center of her life. Her perfect little man.

"He'll be here soon, Harry." Wendy Marie Testaburger-Marsh smiled. She had grown into quite a woman, with soft, subtle facical features, piercing earthly brown eyes, and smooth raven hair past her shoulders. She had ditched her trademark beret a few years ago, though her favorite color was still purple. She was still as stunning as ever, as her husband would put it - having a rather attractive frame. She had a dark purple skirt on and wore a black jacket over a white blouse. She was thinking of taking Harry out for lunch when Kenny had called and asked to come over for coffee.

Kenny McCormick was a close family friend - he'd stayed in town unlike many of the others. A private investigator, he was usually wearing a buttoned shirt with a tie and over it an orange jacket. He was always quite the looker, with piercing, blue eyes and messy blonde hair that spilled over his head, thick eyebrows and a smirk that was practically a registered trademark. He came over quite often to have coffee with Wendy or Stan - today Stan was working at the veternarian's office so Wendy was meeting him alone.

Stan was a great man and a great father - he had dark, indigo blue eyes, a strong chin, and long black hair which until college he hid under a red-and-blue beanie. He was very athletically involved but ended up giving up college sports to pursue being veterinarian. He loved animals with a passion, and he loved his family. He spent a lot of time with Wendy and Harry if he could, but his dedication to his job sometimes got in the way of spending time with his loved ones - thus why Kenny had stepped in.

Kenny and Harry had a wonderful relationship - Kenny was like a second father to him, watching Harry when his parents were busy, taking him to the park and watching television with him. He'd even taken him to the Museum once and showed Harry all of the dinosaur skeletons and read the signs to him. Harry was quite fond of Uncle Ken, though she had slight issues with how Kenny had a tendency to blow off Harry occasionally, something that puzzled her. A knock awoke Wendy from her thoughts as she answered the door, "Kenny! Good to see you."

"Wendy, it's been a long time!" Kenny hugged her and smiled, Wendy hugging back, before separating and crouching, "Harry! How's my little buddy?" Kenny smiled as Harry hugged Kenny. He smiled, and hugged the boy back.

":I'm great, Uncle Kenny!" he smiled, glad to see his uncle. Uncle Kenny hasn't been around for a few days and he had missed him quite a bit. Wendy entered the kitchen and poured coffee as Kenny let the boy go and sat down at the Marsh family kitchen acrosss from Wendy. She handed him a cup of Tweek Bros. blend coffee. "Mom, will you tell me the story of my birth again?"

"Oh? I'd like to hear the story myself." Kenny took a sip, his blue eyes looking toward Wendy. Wendy smiled - she remembered the story like it had happened yesterday - it was quite a fond memory.

"Harry, I'll tell you in a little bit, how about you go out back and water the garden? I'll keep an eye out through the window, I promise." Wendy smiled. Harry nodded and obeyed, geting his mother's watering can and going out back as Wendy looked out the kitchcen window. Wendy smiled, "Well Kenny, the real story you want to hear is his conception, am I correct?"

"Duh. You know all I really want to hear is how you and Stan made sweet love down by the fire." Kenny said facetiously, taking a sip of coffee, "Give me all the sexy details." He rolled his eyes. Wendy, however, was not amused as she finished off her coffee, and crossed her arms, "You know I'm joking, Wend, tell me what happened. I'd like to know where you and Stan got that wonderful child from." he said with a roll of his eyes. It was hard to tell if Wendy was ever amused by him.

"Oh, I'll never forget that magical night..."

xXx

Wendy and Bebe were positively, absolutely, without a doubt not at all drunk. The reason for their staggering and constant giggling was not alcohol-related and anyone who implied otherwise was obviously too drunk. They both were messy - Wendy had one of Bebe's black mini-skirts on with part of a red lingerie sticking out underneath over her legs, and her purple jacket was open to reveal a white tank-top. Her hat was also lopsided and she looked like she was practically getting horny from just walking. Bebe's hair was in a messy ponytail, one of her eyes was half-lidded and she was wearing Wendy's yellow trousers and had a puffy yellow jacket on that did not look quite so good on her.

"Come on, you said if I drew you that penis tattoo on your cheek you'd have sex with Stan..." Bebe said with a slur that was not in anyway the responsibility of a Mr. Jack Daniels. "Sorry it came out looking like... like that .. and more like Rod Blago... Blago... how do you say it? Blagohevich? Blagojayichc? Blago-Blagojevich?"

"W-which house is Stan's?" Wendy said, "I-it's not that one right? Cause that one... that one's a dragon. I bet that's where that fat kid lives. I hate that fat kid. I thought he was hot in the fourth grade but God he's so fat and disgusting and god am I horny where's Stan..."

"Wendy, you're- you're drunk. Gi-give me your keys, I gotta... I gotta drive to Starbucks to check if the... Jesus..." Bebe said, grabbing Wendy and pushing her towards one of the houses, "Go on without me!" she cried, falling in the snow and hugging herself, "God, I am so hot... I'm too hot for these clothes..." she said, starting to unzip her jacket. "WENDY, IF YOU SEE CRAIG, TELL HIM I'M WET."

Wendy knocked at the door, which was answered by a man in a blue suit with a black eye and holding a beer bottle, his hair messy. Wendy couldn't recall much about how he looked, she was too dru- having too much fun to notice, "Hey, you're that girl from the Church who kept offering us refreshments at the Alcoholics Anonymous meetings until I got kicked out for bringing alcohol to the meetings. Hey, is Skeeter still there? God, that Skeeter is so fucking funny..."

"I-is your son in? I'm gonna- I-I'm gonna... I'm gonna fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck him. " Wendy said, smirking, her eye twitching, "I'm gonna f... I'm gonna fuck him. Yeah! Woo! Fuck yeah! I'm gonna fuck him! I'm gonna rock his world from here to... to... what's that line... to kingdom fuckin' cum! That's cum with a U... and an M... and a K! Not nesseccarily in that order!"

"He's in his room. Be careful, his sister won't leave him alone today." he said as he sat back on the couch, turned on the Broncos game and proceeded to drink more unhealthy amounts of liquor. Wendy then tore off the jacket and opened the nearest bedroom door. Nothing. Then she opened the next one and tackled the boy in it. He pushed her down on the bed.

"Wendy, the fuck?" he said, his familiar blue eyes looking at her, "Wendy, aw shit, you're drunk, aren't you?" he said in disbelief as Wendy giggled. She sat up and stared at him and tore her shirt off, revealing a red lingerie that left very little to the imagination. "Aw, shit, what are you wearing? Is that even your's?" he asked.

"I want you. I am so horny it's not even funny." Wendy smirked, giggling as he wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down. He sighed and got back up, "Come on. I'm waiting for yoouu..." Wendy said, her slur progressively worse. He crossed his arms - he knew it wasn't right. He couldn't take advantage of a drunk girl. But his blue eyes met those browns and it felt almost impossible to say no, "Come on, baby, you know how long I've wanted you? Let your little monster out. I'm so ready."

"Wendy... you know I love you, but I can't do this. I can't just take advantage fo you if you're drunk... it's wrong. It's rape. You're not even acting like yourself! This isn't how I want us to be... and I don't even have a condom." She sneered slightly,

"I'm not drunk! I had a few but I'm fine now! Besides, I'm on the pill, what's the worst that can happen? I mean, come on..." Wendy smirked as she shook her beret off her head and her hands went to work on the back of her bra. As soon as he saw her hands moving, he turned back away. She giggled, "Come on... you love me, don't you?"

"...of course I do. But you're dr-" When he turned to speak he noticed she'd removed her bra, her chest exposed,. Wendy smirked. It was getting rather hard to control himself, "Wendy, please, I don't-" she got up and quietly approached him, putting her arms around him as their bodies met. She smiled up at him and leaned in and pressed her lips to his, and he melted and hugged her and kissed her back...

xXx

"And one thing led to another and the next morning I woke up in my bedroom and was pregnant with Harry." Wendy smiled, "You know the truth is I was drunk that night after all... I barely remember most of what happened, just snippets... but it was definitely the wildest night me and Stan ever had..." she said, "You want some more coffee, Kenny?" she turned around as Harry came in the door with the watering can.

"I watered all the plants, mommy!" Harry said proudly, running up and hugging his mother. Wendy hugged back and smiled, "Will you tell me the story of the day I was born now?" Wendy bit her lip.

"I'll take some more coffee... hey buddy." Kenny smiled, nodding down at Harry and looking at those blue eyes, "Good job watering out there." he smiled, "Maybe later this week we can go see a movie, eh? How's Cars 2 sound?" Kenny said, getting up as Harry cheered, he walked up to Wendy, "Great coffee, Wend. It was a nice visit but I better get home." he said, looking into her eyes. Wendy nodded, surprised he was leaving so soon - he'd arrived not ten minutes ago,

"You sure you're going to leave?" she said, looking a bit sad to see him go. Harry looked up at his uncle a bit pleadingly. Kenny shrugged, a hand in his pocket, "Are you sure?"

"I have a lot of paperwork to do tonight. Tell Stan I said hi." Kenny smiled at Wendy and looked down at Harry, "Harry, has anyone ever told you... that you have your father's eyes?" Kenny's deep, ocean blue eyes focused on the boy, and Harry looked confused with his own eyes. "All right, I'll get going. See you now." Kenny closed the door. Wendy locked it and turned to oher son.

"Nobody's ever told me that." Harry said quietly, looking to his mother. She looked troubled and sighed,

"He's wrong." Wendy told him simply, "Come on, let's go call daddy. I'll let you dial this time, we can surprise him..."


	34. Disease (RebeccaKenny)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

DISEASE (Rebecca/Kenny)

Kyle Broflovski was a girl's wet dream come true - chocolate brown eyes, curly auburn hair, a fiery temper, and a strong yet lanky body. Despite their close friendship, Kenny was always mystified by Kyle's cluelessness - he came to Kenny talking about how hard it was to find a girl, yet when a girl overtly flirted with him, Kyle usually either had his nose in a textbook or was just oblivious.

"I just I don't know if Esther likes me. She's so artistic and smart, but she's always so down about herself, I'm not sure I'm her type, but I think she's just really cool and she doesn't give herself any credit. What should I do, dude?"

"Break up with Rebecca who you can't even see and go ask Esther to open her fucking legs." Kenny rolled his eyes - Esther's crush on Kyle was obvious. He was probably the only guy she gave two shits about. He'd been quite sure she was a lesbian until he realized one of her artistic pieces had a ushanka on.

"Kenny, sick, Esther'd slap me if I said that." Kyle said with annoyance, though Kenny was sure Esther was like her mother and turned on by dominance. Kyle's loss. Kenny knew what to do next time he had the yellow fever. "And I can't just dump Rebecca, dude, I mean she really likes me."

"No, she likes kissing and being turned on. Let me take her off your hands, I'll treat her like goddamn royalty. I'll even introduce her to El Pollo Loco-"

"Kenny, I still think it's stupid you chose to name your penis after your stupid wrestling ego - and she's my girlfriend, stop trying to hit on her." Kyle crossed his arms, but it was clear the annoyance was mild.

"I know what these girls like, Kyle. Go to Esther, be a total dick and she'll be swimming in your cum in an hour. Trust me, it turns her on. Trust me buddy, name any girl in the school and I can get you so laid it's not funny. But the price is your girl, unless you plan on actually kissing her like you damn know well she wants."

"Kenny, I can't. Did you see how slutty she became? She was out of control! I don't want that to happen to her again. I don't want to hurt her anymore than I already have, Kenny..." Kyle sighed, "When I kissed her it was electric for her, didn't you see? I don't know, man, I just-"

"Kyle. Rebecca's kissed plenty of guys... and girls. Just because the dealer's gone doesn't mean there's no drugs. I guess to echo Cartman's words... your girlfriend's a slut dude. Just go out with Esther, you'll be happy, she'll be happy, and Rebecca can have less guilt for her own pursuits." Kenny said.

"Stop it." Kyle's eyes narrowed, "You're just trying to get me to leave Rebecca so you can fuck her and leave, right? You know you're a real sick bastard, Kenny. All you care about is sex and nothing else. Some of us have respect for girls, some of us-"

"You think this is about me? I deserve a little fucking sex in my life, you haven't been through the shit I have, wondering every night when I di- sleep if I'll ever wake up. That's not even the fucking point though. This isn't about me. This is about you! I am trying to protect you! This is about the fact your girlfriend has syphilis! I'm trying to protect you so you don't get syphilis and fucking die!" Not to mention the fact Kenny knew if she has syphilis it's his fault for egging her and Tammy on.

"Kenny... I had no idea-"

"Of course you didn't. Now go ask Esther out - she likes you and has been begging Kevin to set you guys up and he told me the news himself three weeks ago. I have to make sure your girlfriend is okay." Kyle looked at him, sighed, nodded, and turned to leave without a word. Clearly Kenny had shook the boy slightly. Kenny heard a beep from his phone and checked his texts:

to: Kenny

from: Rebecca C.

We're both clean :-)

Kenny smiled - he had been skeptical but apparently Tammy wasn't lying when she told him she was clean now. He felt slightly guilty for breaking up with her way back when. But his time with her was over and they've moved on. He began typing back as he walked back:

to: Rebecca C.

good to hear. How about we hang tomorrow night? you and me ;-)

Kenny wouldn't let himself go after her just yet. Oh no, he wanted to see how much she wanted him first. Besides, he had to give Kyle time to break up with her once he successfully asked Esther out. (Because Kenny knew damn well Kyle did not have the yellow fever yet.) But he thought, he finally had a chance to be with a kind, sweet, intelligent girl who also happened to enjoy kissing as much as he did. But that was only icing on the cake.

And that was his last thought before he was crushed to death.

("Oh my God, they killed Kenny!"

"You bastards!")


	35. Kiss (RebeccaSally D)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

KISS (Rebecca/Sally)

Rebecca ducked behind the building - she shouldn't be here. It wasn't right. But she couldn't fight her urge constantly - sometimes she had to let it go. She looked around, shaking as she approached a girl using her cell phone with strawberry-blonde hair in a ponytail in a dark blue skirt and a purple blouse, not paying much attention. "H-h-hi. Are you S-Sally D-D-Darson?"

"Oh!" Sally turned, blue eyes meeting Rebecca's. Another customer. Excellent! She could use the pocket money - she'd been saving up to get tickets to go to the movies. She pocketed her phone, "Yeah. You here for a kiss or a hug? You brought money, right?"

"A k-k-k-kiss." Rebecca pulled out a crips five-dollar bill and handed it to Sally, shaking slightly. Sally wasn't troubled - her customers' personal lives were her business. Though she did note off Rebecca was her only female customer. Sally opened her wallet and stuffed the bill in. Rebecca looked away nervously. "Do we-?"

"Wait." Sally said, pulling out her lip gloss and applying it in the most seductive manner possible - one of the other bitches taught her that back during the Company days. "Sorry. I always give my best, no matter who it is." she explained, turning, then pushing her head forward and closing her eyes.

Rebecca looked both ways then leaned in and pressed her lips to Sally's, and for a few seconds, she was in paradise. Nothing else mattered but the two of them. She even seemed to cease shaking for a moment. And as soon as it had happened, Sally had separated from her, "Th-th-thank you." Rebecca smiled.

"Anytime." Sally smiled, "And hey, uh, girl-to-girl, but don't be so nervous, you're actually a really good kisser." she said, putting a hand on Rebecca's shoulder. Their eyes met, and Sally stepped back, "All right, you'll probably want to go now unless you want anything else." she advised. Rebecca nodded and turned,

"M-m-maybe sometime you could c-c-come over and we could just ha-ha-hang out t-t-together." Rebecca smiled. She doubted her parents would allow it right away, but it seemed a lot easier to get a chance to spend time with Sally around then with a boy.

"Yeah, I'd like that." Sally smiled.


	36. Sluts (RebeccaTammy)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

SLUTS (Rebecca/Tammy)

Slut. Whore. Ho.

Few girls in town truly knew how those words felt. Though the town was not particularly conservative, there was a nationwide social stigma against girls who'd had more than one sexual partner. The real pain was when it wasn't just a random insult - when it meant something. When there was a grain of truth to it.

Though most famous was Rebecca Cotswolds, who had kissed at least four boys, though estimations by the most intelligent members of the fourth grade class were as high as six boys and a girl, Tammy Warner had given two boys blowjobs in the parking lot at T. G. I. Friday's. Therefore, it seemed appropriate for her to call her "friends" there.

"This is the first meeting of the South Park Sluts, or S. P. S." Tammy said proudly, pushing her long brown-blonde hair out of her face and smiling at the three girls with her. "All right... Tammy Warner, here... Rebecca Cotswolds here... Sally and Kelly Darson... both here. " Tammy smiled, "So we can start our meeting and our testimonials. Who wants to go first?"

"I will!" Sally said, crossing her arms, strawberry-blonde hair in a ponytail much like her blonde twin. "My name is Sally Darson and I'm a slut. I used to work for a kissing company but now I work solo again. I can't stop it. Every kiss just feels... so amazing." Rebecca and Kelly nodded understandably, "It's just so hard to control sometimes..."

"Good, good... my name is Tammy Warner and I am a slut. I'm normally fine but whenever I see the Jonas Brothers or Justin Bieber I get... tingly... down there. I ended up coming here and after eating giving Dave Darsky a blowjob. And then again I did the same thing to my boyfriend Kenny and I now have a severe strain of syphilis."

"M-m-my name is Rebecca C-C-Cotswolds and I-I am a... do I need to say it?" she said quietly, not entirely comfortable with using such innapropriate language. Tammy put a hand on her shoulder,

"Rebecca, the first step to getting help is admitting you have a problem." Tammy said, trying to look into Rebecca's eyes, but they fleeted away - she wasn't ready to admit it. Before either could speak again, a group of boys approached. At front stood a familiar face in an orange hoodie with a few blonde hairs invading the gaze of his blue eyes.

"Ooh, just what we need!" smirked the boy next to him with moppy brown hair, a smirk, and a slightly wider than usual belly. Not that Clyde Donovan was one to talk, having one of the most attractive girls in school with him. Behind them was a giant tub of lard that seemed to be wearing clothes- my bad, behind them was Eric Cartman, and Butters Stotch, who looked as if unsure he was at the right place. "Four of us, four of them!"

"Looks like the girls are having a nice little slut meeting. So which of you wants to go down on which of us?" Cartman said, taking charge and moving in front of Clyde and Kenny. Butters moved forward,

"Uh, Eric, if we're lookin' for sluts, why don't we just go up to your mom's room? I mean my dad said her legs are wider than a 180o angle." Butters said, to which Cartman responded with a slap across the mouth, "Aw jeez, it's bleeding..."

"We're not having a slut meeting." Tammy said angrily, "We're just hanging out." she said defensively, glaring at Kenny - who else would have leaked the information out? But alas, Butters remained in his place, still wiping his jaw.

"B-but I saw Rebecca kissing Sally the other day at school... and you're holdin' Rebecca awful close. Eric tells me if little girls spend a lot of time real close it means they're lesbians. That's why he doesn't let mom have a lotta friends or something like that..." Butters pounded his fits together.

"Butters, that is not true at all, okay? Look at Wendy and Bebe, they're totally close and they won't make out even when I ask them to!" Clyde said with annoyance, "But Rebecca and Sally, that is interesting... what's really going on here?"

"Uhhh... we're on a... a double date. Yeah." Tammy said, biting her lip, "And we're not interested in any of your... penises. We'd much rather sit here and make out with each other." Tammy crossed her arms - she was so smart. This plan was ingenius and fullproof. There were absolutely no possible-

"Oh yeah? Go for it. Kiss Rebecca." Kenny smirked, crossing his arms - he knew it was a ruse, he knew there was a meeting, and he knew damn well what he wanted. The other guys copied his pose, and almost his smirk. As soon as Rebecca heard the word 'kiss' her eyes had instantaneously closed and her lips had curled.

"Do it!" Cartman egged on as Tammy leaned in and closed her mouth to Rebecca's. The boys cheered and whooped at the mythical spectacle before them while Rebecca ran her fingers through Tammy's hair and pulled her close. Kelly and Sally's eyes widened at the girls before them. "Isn't this awesome you guys?" Cartman said

Tammy separated and smirked, "...wanna go back to the parking lot?" she said in a husky voice. Oh boy, Kenny knew that voice. Next thing he saw was the two girls walking out toward Tammy's car, making out again.

"So are you two gonna make out, too?" Clyde asked hopefully as he put his hands together and looked to Kelly and Sally who made fake gagging noises, trying to express their disgust at Clyde. "What?"


	37. Repaid (Craig&Kenny)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

REPAID (Craig&amp;Kenny)

Craig Tucker was sitting in his room, eating a piece of pizza at his computer desk. He was having a late night tonight. His parents, Thomas and Heather, were fast asleep in their room. His sister Ruby was playing video games or watching a movie, he didn't know, it was almost Halloween anyway, perhaps she was watching a scary movie like Saw, or Friday the 13th, or Halloween. He didn't really care. He wasn't fond of Horror movies anymore.

As he finished another deliciously cheesy triangular slice, he stretched his arms, and yawned. He remembered when Butters told everyone he was the key to Imaginationland... now he knew how Butters had felt. He gulped some soda. His hat was tossed on the floor carelessly, and his dark black hair. His face was slightly dirty from his adventure in Peru, but his clothes on now were fine, thankfully.

Craig had somewhat lied - he hated the adventures, as did his little gang of friends with Token, Clyde, Tweek, Jason and Jimmy - but Butters, Wendy, and that one British or French or whatever kid, um, uh Peep or something, and a few others, did seem to genuinely enjoy it. Craig knew Wendy just said that because she loved Stan and all. Craig himself had always wished deep down he had a relationship like all the other kids.

He and Red had dated on-and-off for a while but she was his cousin afterall, it would never really work, he had to dump her and she went for Terrance Mephesto, although deep down Craig always knew she belonged with Kevin, they'd been friends forever. Bebe was Clyde's girlfriend, so she was off-limits Lola was with Token, off-limits as well. Tweek didn't have a girlfriend. Annie was Jason's, Tweek didn't care for her anyway. Craig hated Nancy with a passion. Craig finished another slice and downed more soda pop. Craig had always been jealous of Stan's position of leadership over the boys, and via Wendy, the girls.

It was 3:47am. "God, I am up fucking late," he said, knowing he had school tomorrow and should go to bed earlier. But he just couldn't, the whole ordeal was stuck in his head. He couldn't close his eyes much less fall asleep. He picked up another slice and began to eat...He'd used up most of his money on his pizza...He'd barely had much money to himself as is, and losing his $100...He ate away his sorrows.

Suddenly, Craig heard something. He turned and walked over to his window and saw a rock hit it, then bounce back to the ground. He quickly opened his window and looked down, expecting to see Tweek telling him he can't sleep or Stan or Cartman telling him they had a new idea. However, this visitor was clad in an orange parka. "Hey Craig."

"I told you I didn't want to speak to you guys anymore," Craig said bluntly.

"I know, I know." Kenny looked down, feeling somewhat ashamed, "I need to talk to you. Lift me in." Kenny said, being around four feet off ground from Craig.

"Get in yourself, McCormick." Craig said. He and Kenny had been on-and-off-again friends for ages. Craig went back and sipped some soda.

"C'mon Craig, I need to talk to you fucking now!" Kenny said, his voice slightly less muffled due to the shouting. Craig ran over and offered his hands.

"Make it quick," he said.

Kenny grabbed his hands, his cold gloves sending a freezing sensation through Craig as he lifted Kenny into his room. Kenny got up, still in his pan flute band suit, "Excuse me," he pulled something out of his pocket, "Ah, here it is,"

Craig was putting his hat on, but when he turned to Kenny, his mouth dropped open in disbelief, "Dude, you..."

"Yeah, took all night." Kenny replied. "But I got all $100, even if I got half of it by rick rolling one of the dorks."

"All right Kenny, you remember all of the lines, right?" said a black-haired boy in a sky blue coat in the bushes.

"Yeah Kev, relax, I've got it covered." Kenny said.

"Ring his door bell," Kevin Stoley replied, hiding in the bushes. Kenny rang the doorbell, and a boy with brown hair in a purple suit and suspenders came out.

"What do you want?"

"I'm getting paid to sing you a song..." Kenny sighed, "We're no strangers to looove..."

"Oh Jesus..." the boy said as Kenny began singing.

"...And then when I finished I said 'You got rick rolled, asshole' and ran in the bushes."

Craig laughed, "Ha, that's a good one Kenny." he said, as he took the bill, "Thank you. I am sooo happy." he said, collecting his birthday money.

"You saved the world from rampaging Guinea pigs, freed Peruvian pan flute bands, and destroyed a member of the Bush Administration. It's the least I can do, man" Kenny shrugged. "It's also my way of saying sorry for dragging you into all of this, and" Kenny put his hands into his pockets, "And for what I said earlier, the whole Mexican thing... Bad idea on Kyle's part, yeah...I'm just sorry what I said about you when we left...I don't hate you..."

"I don't hate you, either. I just hate Cartman and Stan and Kyle." Craig said, "You're awesome, Kenny. Thank you." Craig put his arm on Kenny's shoulders.

"Any time, I owed ya," Kenny said. "Friends?"

"Friends," Craig said, still in an emotionless voice and look, but Kenny knew deep down he meant it.

"I better get home before mom and dad fight about it. See you Craig." Kenny returned to the window and began to climb out.

"Wait, here..." Craig handed Kenny a slice of pizza, "Take it."

"Thanks." Kenny walked back by the window, "Bye," he began to climb out.

"See ya Kenny..." Craig said as Kenny was dangling with just his hands still there.

Okay, maybe the day wasn't so bad...


	38. Fortune Cookies (KevinRed)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

FORTUNE COOKIE (Kevin/Red)

I'm Chinese, so I have to obey fortune cookies.

And I'm a Star Wars fan, so of course I believe in destiny and prophecy.

I guess I'm no Jedi... not exactly the noblest kid around here. I'm a bit of a coward. When the other kids are running off fighting zombies or aliens or celebrities, I'm the kid in the background in the Stormtrooper helmet.

"Kevin godammit."

That's what they'd all say - Kevin Stoley is just a Star Wars nerd. Useless. Stupid. Expendable. Carries around a lightsaber. So after fourth grade, I detached myself from all things nerdy. I just listened to Japanese crap and watched anime - it was what was cool. I still didn't get many friends - Star Wars followed me my whole life.

I only ever had one friend - Rebecca Tucker, better known as Red. We'd been close ever since we were kids. Then at the beginning of fourth grade we drifted apart. You know, the girls started developing, and you know, she was a popular one. And me? I'm that dork in the back of the class. A Melvin.

"Kevin, why don't you have a cookie?" My mother, Tabitha, carelessly threw a little bagged fortune cookie to me, "You seem tense."

I opened it quickly and cracked open the cookie, putting the fortune down and quickly gobbling it up - I was hungry, dude! And then I sat, ignoring the forture. Couldn't be anything important, right? I heard the door open and Red walked in, "Es let me in. It's been a while, I figured we could catch up" she said quietly, sitting down at the table, "Ooh, did you eat a fortune cookie? What's it say?"

I lifted it up - 'Love is near.'

I blushed and smiled, "It says It's a good time to catch up with old friends." I smiled.


	39. Lockers (Gen)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

LOCKER ROOM (Clyde/Butters)

"I COULD JUST EAT YOU!"

God, Clyde is such a fag sometimes. Especially when he's tripping on cough syrup.

"AUGH, WHAT ARE YOU D-DOING?" Poor Butters. Always the victim.

"I LOVE YOU TOO, BABY." Clyde, currently, was simulating anal sex on Butters, in the middle of a mens' locker room. Butters' shirt was off as he was halfway through changing, but Clyde hadn't even gotten to his locker as he rammed his front into Butters' backside. I merely facepalmed.

"HEADS UP!" yelled Craig. Suddenly an open bottle of AXE body spray fell on the ground. I hopped on the other side of it as it sprayed AXE. Jesus, not this stupid shit. I don't want to attract dead animals on the way home. I know for a fact it doesn't attract women. My best friend's one, after all. Not to mention my sister.

"Are we doing dancing again today, Kev?" asked Clyde as he came to his senses and moved to his locker not far from mine. Dancing unit was always awkward. I never liked dancing, and it's always awkward to pick a partner. I've been told I have a bit of a knack for it so far. Red's not in our period and dancing with my sister would be gay so I dance with Bebe.

"Unfortunately so." I replied with a yawn, "Nothing gayer than a men's locker room, eh?" I asked in honesty.

"Nope." Bradley nodded as he put his gym shorts on.

"Wouldn't it be just awesome if women's locker rooms were like this?" I jokingly asked.

"They totally are. They compare boobs and stuff." Kenny said.

"We should try comparing dicks." Clyde said.

"...Kenny, I doubt you really know what goes on in a woman's locker room." I rolled my eyes.

"I've been in one." Kenny said triumphantly.

"How in God's name did you do that?" I asked. Kenny's blue eyes looked into mine with the upmost seriousness as he grabbed my shoulders.

"Okay, so tomorrow morning take a car ten miles out eastward, look for a guy named Hank. He'll take you in his car to a burger joint called Melvin's, buy the Supreme Half-Pounder, eat ALL of it - I know it's tough, but it's so worth it - it'll turn you invisible. Hank'll drive you to a cave in Wyoming and then you'll have to go through some hallways. On the paperwork sign your race as Native American, and then go through the red door and enjoy the show." I laughed loudly.

"...I'm serious." Kenny said. And then suddenly a pair of shoes hit the top of the lockers.

"The fuck?" I said as a coat came up. Bradley smirked and grabbed the shoes and stuffed them in an empty locker. Kenny took the coat and stuffed it in two. They closed it and ran, having finished changing. I quickly slipped my shorts on and dashed out with them, only to hear Eric Cartman's booming voice.

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY CLOTHES!"


	40. Puke (StanWendy)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

Nothing was more romantic than a meadow full of full, blooming flowers, and cool nice grass - especially in the middle of summer in South Park, Colorado, the only time of year when there wasn't snow everywhere. And in this peaceful meadow laid a boy in an open brown jacket with red trim, a blue T-shirt underneath it, raven hair sticking out under a red-and-blue poofall hat as blue eyes stare up at the clouds. Next to him was a girl in a yellow skirt with brown eyes, smiling in a purple tank top, purple jacket discarded on the ground a few feet away, silky black hair past her shoulders, a pink beret on the top of her head. "Isn't this nice, Wendy?" the boy Stan said simply.

"Yeah." Wendy replied smiling, "It really is. I love thse little moments."

"Me too. It just reminds us why we're together you know?"

"Oh, yeah I see."

"I mean sure it's hard sometimes... like at Christmas when you wanted that neclace and I didn't have enough money to buy it so I was going to get you that book but then I got a Christmas advance on my allowance and I blew it on the book and the neclace and bought it for you and my parents got pissed and Shelly beat me because they didn't get presents." Wendy giggled.

"Yeah..."

"Or like that time we got into a big fight because you didn't want me hanging out with Cartman because he was a bad influence when he got on that whole Republican pride thing because he thought it had something to do with pubes. Or that time you were wearing that really nice dress and I wanted to try it on but didn't-"

"What?"

"Nothing... it's just nice that despite how hard it is sometimes, we always get these little moments with each other." Stan said, holding her close.

"You know what Stan? Every moment I'm with you feels like this." Wendy said as they cuddled.

"Wendy, I lo- BLAAAUGH!" Wendy got up and began brushing the vomit off of her tank top and face.


	41. Sleepover (KyleSharon)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

The favorite part of Stan and Kyle's sleepovers was around 10pm when Stan had drifted off to sleep in his bed and Kyle was still wide awake - the time usually reserved for studying he was now spending on Stan's Xbox, fighting in SoulCalibur and practicing so he could kick Stan's ass better next time. After beating yet another round, he put the controller down and checked Stan, who was sleeping like a baby, curled in his blankets as if it was an ice age. Kyle rolled his eyes at his friend and felt up for a prank.

He left the room and went into the bathroom. There was a Poison magazine on the floor which Kyle did not want to know how the last occupant had used it, and a bong which he again did not want to know how it had been used. Kyle simply stepped over, took a glass and filled it with cold water. He smirked and tiptoed towards Stan's room when he heard noise from the basement. Strange, usually Stan's relatives were asleep. He slowly walked down - and then took a tumble when he saw Sharon Marsh in an, ahem, revealing nightgown.

"Oh Kyle, are you all right!?" Oblivious to why he'd fallen, Sharon quickly got up and picked up the young Jewish boy, helping him up. The plastic cup hadn't broken luckily, though water was spilt on to the rug. Kyle's well-being was more important however.

"I-I'm fine, Mrs. M-Marsh." Kyle answered quickly, trying to keep his eyes on her face rather than her cleavage.

"Okay. Do you need water again? I'm sorry, you must have tripped on something."

"No no I'm fine, I'll get some and get back to Stan's room to sleep." Kyle smiled nervously, reminding himself this was his friend's mom. He put his hat back on over his jewfro, which had seen it's public for only a moment.

"All right, if you insist," she leaned down a bit - Kyle cursed his short size normally, but at least in this case it got him a nice view, "If you need anything just tell me." he nodded as she returned to the couch. Kyle bit his lip as he walked back up the stairs, wishing once again he was just a bit older.


	42. Park County High (Gen oneshot)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

"Wow, you kids excited for your first day of High School?" Randy Marsh grinned, slightly older, his hair beginning to thin and his brown eyes losing that childlike brightness, a crack heard as he looked back at the three boys in his car. His fourteen-year-old son, Stanley, couldn't help but pinch the bridge of his nose, his choice of stress relief. He was a young man with a strong chin, dark blue eyes, and messy black hair under the trademark red-and-blue cap, a symbol he refused to let go of. He wore a brown shirt under a green-and-white jacket, and had his arms crossed familiarly.

"Dammit, dad, watch the road!" Stan reprimanded his father. To Stan's right the seat was taken up by the stocky figure of Eric Cartman, a boy who was still trying to grow into his size. He had carefully combed brown hair, and a charismatic smirk on his face. His chosen coat was a dark, deep red over a pink T-shirt with 'Beefcake' written on it. Unlike his friends, Cartman had changed little since his childhood. "Yeah, yeah, we're excited, okay, Jesus, don't kill us here!"

"Oh, relax, Stan." Randy rolled his eyes, swerving through traffic despite his hands being firm on the wheel, "How do you kids feel about going to Park County High? You'll be with a ton of new kids from everywhere, not just the kids you grew up with, you know. Heh, you know Stan, this is where I met your mother." Randy smiled, "God, you know, this probably is going to sound really gross to you kids, but you'd be surprised how beautiful a girl can look covered in puke."

"Huh?" Kyle Broflovski's head turned. He was a thinner boy, with a tight green ushanka, old and battered, hiding auburn curls, and pale skin. He wore an orange-and-green coat and was on the left of Stan, having been looking out a window. His brown eyes looked towards Stan and his father in confusion.

"Oh, nothing." Randy stopped the car, turning, "You kids have fun at school okay? I can already see your little friends Butters and Kenny by the door waiting to meet up with you." Stan, Kyle and Cartman got out of the car, stretching. "Stan, call me if you need a ride home, I have to get to work. See you kids." Randy drove off.

"Stan, your dad is such a fucking loser." Cartman rolled his eyes, waving over Kenny and Butters. Kenny looked... barely any different, in fact. He was short for his age, still wore the same fucking orange parka, zipped to hide everything but those familiar blue eyes. Butters was actually quite tall with a thick but small puff of messy blonde hair, a gap between his front teeth, and freckles - and of course, he was in his commonly associated aqua blue zipped shirt. "Butters, you fucking asshole, you still haven't died yet?"

"Hey fellas... yeah, Eric, real sorry f'r that, um..." Butters was still a nervous little child at heart, sheltered by well-meaning but extremely abusive parents - not that it was any long of consequence. The damage was done but his parents had divorced a while ago and he currently lived in an apartment with his mother Linda, who was beginning to develop a serious case of obsessive-compulsive disorder and could barely stop cleaning. 'Must... clean... must... paint...' "So fellers, we have any classes together?"

Stan pulled out his school schedule, reading it aloud:

HOMEROOM (H. Simmons)

PERIOD 1 - ENGLISH (D. Harden)

PERIOD 2 - U. S. HISTORY (J. Williams)

PERIOD 3 - DEBATE (N. Jacobs)

PERIOD 4 - LUNCH (Caf)

PERIOD 5 - STUDY HALL (L. Allison)

PERIOD 6 - BIOLOGY (H. Jablome)

PERIOD 7 - SPANISH (A. Mann)

PERIOD 8 - MATH (C. Baker)

PERIOD 9 - PHYS. ED. (A. Hugankis)

"Wow, Stan, we have Physical Education together!" Butters smiled, "Maybe we can share a gym locker or somethin', or be, uh, partners in class. That sure would be fun, huh, Stan?" Ever the optimist, Butters, ever the optimist. He pounded his little fists together.

Cartman nabbed the paper in his meaty, sweaty hands and read it over, "Oh, sweet, I don't have any with you. Guess you'll have to wait until after school to deal with my awesomeness and popularity, huh, Stan?" Cartman chuckled, his fat belly jiggling as Kenny leaned over to glance at the paper.

"Move over, tubby." Kenny held Stan's paper next to his, "Oh, hey, damn, looks like we don't have much together, either... just homeroom, but hey, you know, we can always talk after school and stuff. We are neighbors after all." Kenny chuckled, slapping his buddy on the back and then looking to Cartman, "Well, the two of us have Period 3 Biology together at least."

"Hey, let me see, dude." Kyle said with a grin, taking the paper and looking through it. He raised an eyebrow as his grin faded, "Huh." he looked it over again, then picked his paper back up and looked at it, eyes darting between papers, "That's funny."

"What is?" Stan asked.

"We only have one class together," Kyle said with a shrug, "We both have Period 6 Biology, I guess..." Kyle still looked uneasy, wrinkling his nose, "I guess it's not that bad, I mean, we'll see each other a bit..."

"Dude, are you okay?" Stan raised an eyebrow, "You seem kinda tense. I mean, yeah it's kinda lame, but we still have one class, and you know, that's something, right? It's not like we're never going to see each other again." Stan chuckled, more to relieve tension than because anything about the situation was funny.

"Yeah, it'll be fine. Heh, you and Kenny have, um, Mr. Simmons for homeroom again, you know. I hear he's a real nice guy, heheh..." Kyle still seemed quiet, but Stan shrugged it off.

"Kahl, you dumb pussy, sad you can't spend every waking moment with your super special boyfriend Stan? First, you convince his sister to take a dorm college, then you try to make him leave his girlfriend, and now this!" Cartman shook his head, "You're so gay, Kahl, I think Big Gay Al would be pretty proud of you."

"Screw you, fatass, you're presenting the evidence completely out of context! People could read that and completely misinterpet my character!" Kyle said angrily, "Besides, Shelly was beating him up and come on, everyone knows his girlfriend was an over-possessive whore!" Some things never change.

"Boys, boys, come on, we can settle this like, men." Kenny stepped in between the two of them, "Kyle gets flirted with by like every girl in school, including Bebe goddamn Stevens, who we both know has tits that might be able to rival Stan's mom in a couple years, not to mention rumor is she's aiming for head cheerleader. Whereas Cartman's only significant sexual experience was an insecure male-to-female transsexual."

"Eh! She had a vagina, that means she wasn't a tranny, Keehl, she had a sex change operation!" Cartman corrected. How DARE that greedy Jew misconstrue facts in such a manner.

"So did Mr. Garrison... twice." Kyle smirked, crossing his arms, "Face it dude - I could have more action than you... if girls weren't so stupid and overly possesessed with stupid shit like shoes and who's dating who and all that dumb stuff." he shook his head.

"We better go find our lockers, fellas, class is startin' awful soon... oh golly I sure hope my locker's close to home room, I wouldn't want to have to walk too far..."

"Butters godammit, shut the hell up." Cartman sighed.

xXx

"So Stanley, did you have a good first day of school?" came Sharon Marsh's voice as she came to the front table of her household, sitting across from her only remaining child. She put out a plate of cookies and milk for him - not that it could get too close, what with the books and notebook in the way as Stan busily scribbled notes so quickly his usually fine handwriting was barely legible. With Shelly off at college, Sharon was having some empty nest syndrome and spoiling the shit out of her son. On the bright side, it kept her busy and occupied from examining the shambles of her marriage, or the fact her hairs were beginning to gray.

"Yeah, it was okay, I guess. I have homeroom with Mr. Simmons, who's somehow still alive, but it was only like five minutes, and English and History were cool, and Debate was kind of nice, but I did eat Lunch alone, the only kid who offered to welcome me to the table was some girl I barely know who kind of creeped me out, and then Study Hall I finished half of my English homework, and in Bio, we got assigned seats and I sit all the way away from Kyle. The rest was all intro stuff, and Butters kept mumbling shit in my ear during P. E."

"You have an awful lot of homework for a first day at school." Sharon said, feeling quite bad for her son - after all, he was a hard worker and would be up all night doing homework, and as an older mother, she wouldn't be too stern with his whining as long as he did the work - unlike Sheila, who God knew would harass Kyle for doing anything if he wasn't complete with every assignment, "I hope those notes are it."

"No, after my History notes, I still have to do some personality sheets for Bio, Spanish and Math." Stan sank in his seat, rubbing his forehad and resisting an intense urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, "I'm going to be here for at least another three hours. I mean, Kyle probably finished all his homework already by now, but God knows Cartman and Kenny are out there partying it up..."

xXx

"You think you're fuckin' tough? I'll show you what fuckin' tough is, you dumb piece of shit!" came a Southern accented voice as Kenny looked up from his notes towards his cracked bedroom door, still holding his pen. Cartman sat next to him, doing the same. The bedroom was dark with only a flashlight tied to the ceiling shining at the papers, and the light from the door crack shining in.

"Yeah, well you know what, fuck you, whore!" came another, somewhat deeper voice. Cartman grinned, but Kenny glared back, shaking his fist. Cartman shrugged, "Why don't you go get a fuckin' job if it's such a big deal, huh?"

"Goddamn your family's poor dude." Kenny punched Cartman in the right cheek, leaving a mark as the fat boy rubbed it,

"Eh, fuck you Kinney, asshole!"

xXx

"It's okay, Stanley, it'll get easier. Sophmore year's really the easiest, you know." Sharon offered with a sympathetic smile, but it fell on a deaf face. Stan returned to his diligent work, copying in detail how Christopher Colombus' men raped Indian women and cut the hands of Indian men, before erasing his mentions of Indian and replacing with N. A., "Can't you at least have a snack?"

Stan looked up and took a cookie, "Well, yeah, I'm not gonna starve myself... hey, these are pretty good." He smiled for a moment before returning to his usual cynical frown and continuing work, while eating, "I don't know, mom, it's not just about the work... I don't have a lot of my friends in my classes. Kenny's in homeroom but it's only a couple minutes, and Kyle's at the other end of the Bio classroom. It sounds like nothing but believe me, I almost forgot he was in the classroom."

"I'm sure it'll get better, honey, you just had a rough first day after all." Sharon shook her son's shoulder a bit comfortingly, "Drink some milk, keep your bones strong, you don't want to get arthritis like your grandfather." The family still visited Marvin on a frequent basis at his nursing home.

"Yeah, living for a hundred and eight years must be so horrifying." he replied sarcastically before shaking his head, "Sorry, mom, just kind of frustrated today." He reached for the milk and took a sip.

"It's okay, Stanley. Just work hard and have your snack, you'll have plenty of free time later." she offered with a smile.

xXx

While Randy had insisted on seeing his son off for his first day, he hadn't even offered to drive Stan for the second day of school, so Stan walked. No sign of the other kids. They must've paid the $300 bus fee... except Kenny's family would never pay that much, but not a step during his walk did he see an orange parka running around. He did, however, see yellow school buses, a ton of cars, some kids he didn't know, the creepy girl from Lunch again, and a senior on the Football Team who threw a paper ball at him, apologized for his anger management problems, cried profusely, then told Stan he looked forward to being his teammate. Stan pretended that hadn't happened as he went to his home room and took his chosen seat. No sign of Kenny.

"Marsh, Stanley... ah, there you are." Simmons shrugged, "McCormick, Kenneth..." There was a long pause, "Absent... Morrison, William?"

Stan sighed and took out his phone, texting Kenny: dude, where the hell are you? Nothing. The five minutes came and went with no sign of Kenny. He didn't know why he worried - Kenny never seemed to be around when they needed him. It seemed like whenever they were in real trouble, Kenny would just run off or disappear. Why they even depended on him, Stan wasn't completely sure. Regardless, he went about his day until Lunchtime, when, sitting alone again, his text was answered: sorry. late night as mysterion again. don't worry about me man. Stan sighed. Oh well then.

"Hey, are you Stan Marsh?" replied a nasally-voiced kid with long nails and messy black hair and brown eyes, wearing a blue polo shirt and jeans "I've asked like ten people, please be the kid."

"Uh, yeah?"

"The counselor sent me here to bring you a pass to see him. Wow, is it cold in here... um, so yeah, the counselor wants to see you. They only ask to see the weird kids. Do you have one of those mental disorders? Are you like that Jenny Simons girl who keeps going in there crying every day?"

"Oh God, is it Mr. Mackey?" Stan asked, rubbing his forehad.

"Who? No, it's some guy from Middle Park named Mr. Heralds." the boy replied, "Who the hell is Mr. Mackey?"

"Nothing, one of my old counselors - hey, don't you have somewhere to be? And give my pass." Stan snatched it. The kid shrugged and promptly fucked off. Stan looked at it:

student STAN MARSH

time 10:45am

reason MEETING

signature S. HERALDS

After finishing his food and trading out his tray, Stan found himself entering Mr. Heralds' office, waiting for the counselor to make an appearance. He sat between a red-haired freckled boy with a lisp wearing green and a girl in brown with long black hair who looked like she was sitting next to a very large turd. Stan half-wondered if she really saw that kind of thing, then shrugged it off and sipped his water bottle, which was more of a heavily watered-down Jameson Irish Whiskey. The effect was light, but it did the job.

The door opened, and a man in his late forties with premium black hair and wearing a rather nice-looking dark blue suit walked out, "Ah, you must be Stan. I'm Mr. Heralds, I'll be your counselor, please come in." Stan entered and sat, looking around - letters from students, drawings, motivational posters, a bookshelf, a computer, some stairs, a few small toys that seemed more like decorations, "I've heard a lot about you from your old counselor, Mr. Mackey. I hear you're a very special little fella!" Oh no. Not baby talk. No way.

"What the hell's that supposed to me?" Stan was respectful, but he had his limits, and this warranted serious bluntness.

"You have Asperger's Syndrome, don't you? Diagnosed at ten?" Mr. Heralds said, "It's okay, Stan, a lot of kids have Asperger's Syndrome. Do you know Kirk here? He's a freshman like you and he has a developmental disorder, too, and it causes him to stutter and he has trouble making friends. And so do Wayne, George, Tina, and Marion. They all have developmental problems."

"Look dude, I don't really have Asperger's Syndrome, okay? I just got a flu shot and had- was going through a tough spot, um, a rough patch in my life and got a misdiagnosis, it's no big de-"

"But it is a big deal, Stanley, a lot of kids try to pretend it just isn't a big deal, but they struggle socially. That's why we take all these kids together and put them in developmental groups to build social skills, so they can learn to hold eye contact, and wait until-"

"Dude, no-"

"Wait until other people are finished speaking." Mr. Heralds got a little annoyed, sipping his coffee, "It's an easier way for them to make friends. How about I pencil you in for those on Fridays on a roating schedule?"

"Come on dude, no." Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, "That's stupid, if you put together a bunch of kids with disabilities, they'll just make friends with each other instead of growing out and getting a chance to normal. I mean, come on, no! I don't want these kids to start following me around and shit!"

"See Stanley, you don't know social cues, you see, my body language right now," he gestured to his hand, which was up and flat as if to say 'Stop,' "This means Stop. And you shouldn't use bad words here, you can get in real trouble. Now come on, Fridays on a rotating schedule, it won't be so bad, really."

"Ugh, fine." Stan crossed his arms. There was only so much shit he could take - but there was only so much he could dish out in a school setting, too.

xXx

Stan re-entered his house, hands in his pockets as he walked in. His mother entered and clapped her hands, "There you are, Stanley. You just missed your father, he stopped home during his lunch break." Sharon said, "Did everything go better during your second day of school?" she pulled out a chair for him at the table as he struggled to carry his heavy backpack.

"No way. The school wants to put me in some stupid group thing because I have Asperger's Syndrome, and Kenny wasn't in home room, and Butters made friends with this Mark kid so now I don't have a gym partner. I had to be Ms. Hugankis' partner, it was goddamn humiliating. I hate High School, dude. At least I don't have as much homework tonight."

"Awh, I'm sorry, sweetie, if there's anything I can do, just tell me." Sharon promised, putting a hand on his shoulder for a moment, "Are you hungry? Dinner won't be ready for a while, a snack would be fine-"

"I'm okay, mom, really." Stan began taking out his books, "Maybe, I'll just call up one of my friends to hang out or something." he shrugged, "I mean, at least I have free time to kill, I just have to do a personality paper thing for English and copy some notes for Bio. Won't take more than half an hour."

"Okay, sweetie, and you know if you need anything, mommy's here." Sharon promised, "I'll be in the living room watching Friends, okay?"

"Mom, I'm fourteen now, you don't need to baby me all the time, Jesus Christ." Stan snapped before returning to his work. Sharon looked down and went in to the living room silently to watch television. Stan rolled his eyes and picked up the phone, dialling Cartman, hoping he could set something up with him and Kyle. Cartman didn't even answer until the third ring,

"Oh hey Stan. 'sup hippie?"

"Oh, nothing, just partying it up with my new friends, why?" He could hear chewing and the sound of a bag. Oh Christ, was Cartman really eating cheesy poofs while talking to him on the phone.

"New friends? You"

"Yeah, this Junior kid named Dustin and his girlfriend Amber think I'm hilarious and invited me to some upperclassmen party. It's pretty kewl, I'm a little drunk though- NO KITTY, YOU CAN'T HAVE ANY. Hold on Stan. DUSTIN, YOUR KITTY'S BEING A DILDO!" There was a pause, "Sorry about that, what were you yapping about before the stupid cat interrupted you?"

"Cartman, you're drinking at an upperclassmen party, really, you?" Stan replied in disbelief, "So you're too busy to hang out then?"

"Totally. Dustin and his buddies all love me. I don't need you or Kinney or the dirty Jew around anymore." Cartman chuckled, "I have more friends than.. umm... hold on... hah, more than I can count! Hell, I don't even need Xbox."

"...do they have any Jameson Irish Whiskey?" Stan whispered.

"Fuck off, loser." Cartman hung up, and Stan listened to the dialtone before hanging up. Asshole. Stan took another sip of his water bottle, er watered-down whiskey, and sighed.

xXx

Once again, Kenny had been missed in homeroom - but this time Stan spotted him in the hallway before ninth period and approached him, "Dude, Kenny, where were you during Homeroom today? Another late night out?" Stan chose his wording carefully. Kenny sighed, putting his arms behind his back. The girl next to him, a petite girl in green with blonde hair and glasses, giggled.

"Ahem, well, I kinda ditched, Stan, ya see, I kinda met Julia earlier and we really hit it off, and you know, home room is so pointless anyway, and even if I get tardies, detention isn't that bad..." Kenny scratched the back of his neck.

"Dude, what the hell? You're ditching me for this chick! You barely know her, she probably isn't even from South Park. Does she even know what your house is like?" Stan crossed his arms, looking at Kenny like a stern parent. He looked from Stan to Julia to Stan to Julia.

"Julia, I assure you, my house is fine." Kenny said first, because his blood wasn't in his brain right now, and also because bros before hoes and all that, but he is not getting cockblocked, "Look Stan, can't you hang out with Kyle or Butters? Why do you need to bug me?" he replied, "Besides, I'm finally making some real progress, you know what I mean?" he tilted his head towards Julia.

"Dammit dude, what about that time we all agreed friendship was more important than boobs?" Stan said, getting annoyed.

"Sorry Stan, I was d- absent, so that agreement has no bearing on me." Kenny replied, having known of the incident, he breathed in and out quickly, "Look dude, we can always hang out later, okay? After school?"

"We'll see. I have a lot of homework." Stan replied, eyes narrow, arms crossed. He wasn't very happy with Kenny right now - he was starting to feel rejected, "Besides, I have to see Kyle, I have some Bio homework I'm gonna need some help with."

"Fine then. Come on Julia, we better get to Cooking class..." Kenny hooked arms with Julia and walked off, perfectly content. Stan huffed a bit, but realized it wasn't worth it and continued to Gym class. He entered the room, changed in front of a bunch of guys, pretended nobody could see his junk, and went off to the gymnasium to join his classmates - mostly kids from Middle Park, but he did have Butters at least. At least he did, because the first thing he saw was Butters and Mark laughing together.

"...and then I met this lady named Irene, and she was real swell, and I knew if the meteorite had destroyed civilization, I'd have to repopulate the Earth, so I gave her a whole tour n' stuff before I started to pull down my pants." Didn't even notice Stan, "It was awful fun, ignorin' that Eric lied to me about the meteorite so that he could go to Casa Bonita."

"Oh man, that sounds killer!" Mark was a boy with very short curly black hair and glasses, wearing the standard green-and-black gym uniform, "That Eric kid sure sounds like a hoot and a holler, all right."

"Yeah, he kinda was, but he really was awful mean, as funny as it seems to someone outside his crazy situations." Butters laughed.

"Uh, hi Butters, um, Mark was it?" Stan greeted, "Yeah, Cartman's a dick."

"Oh... hey Stan. Um, Mark this is Stan." Butters introduced awkwardly. Stan grinned and presentimed himself, but Mark wasn't impressed in the slightest, shaking his head.

"Isn't he the kid you kept mentioning with the future self stuff?" Mark asked.

"Oh, yeah, he sure is! He knows all about my horrible secrets!" Butters smiled.

"I don't really like him. He was kind of a dick. I mean at least that fat kid hung around you even if he was mean, the other kids just kinda made fun of you." Stan's smile faded, "I mean, the fat kid was kind of mean by nature and he still kept you around but Stan was one of those kids who just kind of made fun of you and ignored her when you were trying to be nice."

Butters tried to defend him, "I dunno, Mark, Stan's actually really swell-"

"He's a dick, Butters." Mark wasn't budging, "I hope you don't still hang out with him after all that stuff."

"No, no, it's okay, I guess." It's not like Butters or Mark were valuable friends anyway, "I'll just over in Squad 4 if you need me, Butters... have fun in Squad 7 with this douche." Stan turned and went to his place. Gym passed without much incident, and Stan quickly found himself in his gym locker and then to his normal locker, all good - after all, Kenny promised they'd hang out, and he always had Kyle. Cartman was a douche and Butters was stupid.

Stan was taking care of things fine in his locker until he felt a tap on his shoulder, "Um, hello?" he looked to see a dorky boy with square-ish glasses, freckles and short wavy red hair, wearing a blue polo T-shirt with stripes.

"H-h-hi, my name is K-K-Kirk, I'm the Captain of the St-St-St-Star Trek Club here. Heh, get it b-b-b-because K-K-Kirk is the Captain of the Eh-eh-eh-Enterprise? It's my r-r-r-real name though. I have a dev-develop-op-mental di-di-disorder which makes me st-st-st-st-stutter all the t-t-time. Dr. H-h-h-Heralds told me to see you since we might b-b-be in the same group." Kirk grinned.

"Uh, cool, kid, I guess." It was nice a kid was being friendly, but Kirk was struggling to speak and he was a nerd. True, Stan liked Star Trek, but he was having a hard time standing this kid. He didn't want to get a lebel this early into the game.

"I was w-w-wondering if you'd like to j-join our little cl-cl-club. We play r-r-r-role-playing games, watch m-m-m-movies, and have sn-snacks. It's really f-f-fun."

"I guess I could come to maybe one meeting..." Stan tried to be nice. One meeting and if it sucked he'd never have to go back. Oh no. Kirk grinned, patting him on the back. No, don't touch me.

"Thanks dude, I p-p-promise, it'll be g-g-great!"

"Hey, Trekkies!" pointed out a boy with a sideways green baseball cap laughing. Stan turned to see Cartman, with a makeup-faced girl in so few clothes it should be illegal and with the fakest tan he'd ever seen, and hair done up like Snooki, and the boy in a green baseball cap wearing a green-and-black football uniform. He wasn't positive, but it might've been the kid he had been trying to forget. "You look like a bunch of losers!"

"Is it because I wore a p-p-p-polo shirt?" asked Kirk, cupping his mouth. Way to miss the point, dumbass, Stan facepalmed.

"Yeah, you tell them, Dustin! Hey loser, you like hanging out with soulless Gingers?" Cartman yelled out, bursting into laughter. Kirk said nothing, while Stan sneered,

"Screw you Cartman, at least I know how to watch my weight!" Stan called out, slamming his door shut, "Screw you guys, I'm going home!" he said as he zipped up his backpack and left, taking a swig of his watered-down whiskey on his way out, leaving Cartman's gang and Kirk alone.

"Heh, that's just a joke, let me handle this." Cartman said, looking at Kirk, "Hey fuckface, you like Star Trek so much?"

"Yeah, I l-love St-St-St-St-Star Trek!" Someone please tell Kirk this is not how you deal with bullying.

"Then why don't you marry it?" Cartman called back out laughing as he and his friends turned to leave.

"Oh, that's right, because it's not real and you can't have sex with it!" Amber chuckled as she followed after them, leaving Kirk alone. He looked down,

"I knew I sh-sh-shoulda wore a coat over the p-p-p-polo, darn it!"

xXx

Stan was at home, clutching his cell phone up to his ear, waiting for Kenny to pick up. He'd been home from school for an hour now, finished all his homework and was dialing his friend's cell number, since he didn't think he'd seen Kenny walking home, strangely enough. It wasn't until the third ring he finally heard an answer, accompanied by heavy breathing, "Hey Stan, what's up?" Kenny's voice was cheerful again - he was always quick to forgive misgivings.

"Dude, you okay?" Stan asked, slightly concerned about his friends repeated heavy breaths. There was an awkward pause before he got a true response,

"Oh, um, that, yeah, it's nothing..." Kenny coughed, "We still cool to hang out today?" he asked.

"Yeah, dude, I mean, when are you going to be around for it? I know you aren't home yet." Stan explained, "I mean, it's cool if we can't do it today, I guess, but then-"

"Oh, dude, thanks, I actually am kind of busy, y'know, something came up-" Kenny was cut off by a seductive voice.

"Come back to bed, Ken doll..."

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, "...aw dammit, Kenny, is that Julia chick over there?"

"No Stan, this is Chrissy, I met her at 7-Eleven earlier." Kenny handed the phone to the girl, although Stan could obviously not see her through the phone.

"Hi! Your name's Stan, huh? Is that Scottish? My granddad's Scottish!"

"Ain't she a treasure?" Kenny chuckled with amusement, "Anyway, I'm not sure I'll be free tonight but I promise buddy, we'll hang out soon. Anyway, I need to get back to work, and talking to you on the phone isn't exactly raising the flag, so laters!" Dial tone. Fuck.

Stan sighed - well, at least he still had Kyle. He did need help with the Biology assignment. He picked up his Bio binder and called out, "Mom, I'm going to go see Kyle, be back in a little bit." pulled out his keys and went outside and crossed the street towards Kyle's gray-green household. He knocked at the door for an answer, and was greeted by Sheila Broflovski, who had changed little - she was still a plump woman with a stereotypically Jewish nose who was nice as can be until you pissed her off, at which point she was a quote 'super king kamehameha biatch'. She wore the same kind of outfit, too, with her beehived hair looking the same, but her eyebrows were gray, and her eyes were baggy. She was trying to keep her youth, and sadly failing. "Hi Mrs. Broflovski."

"Stanley, it's been a long time, come in. Bubbe's up in his room working on his homework." Sheila explained, "Are you hungry? I was just making dinner."

"I'm okay, thanks Mrs. Broflovski." Stan nodded, going up the staircase and knocking at Kyle's bedroom door. Nothing. He knocked again. "Kyle?"

"Come in, dude." came Kyle's tired voice at last. Stan entered to find Kyle's backpack on the floor, open with papers sticking out. Books and papers were on the bed, Kyle's hat had rolled somewhere on the floor, and his jewfro was free to roam. "I'm just working on some homework. I got a ton, Honors classes are a bitch, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm sure..." Oh well, there goes any chance of hanging out with his best friend, "Hey, um, did you already do the homework for Biology?" Stan asked. There was a long pause, but Kyle gave no reply to him. "Kyle?" Nothing. "Kyle, you've been acting really weird lately. You were all sad when we had Bio together and I'm just asking about homework and you'll barely speak."

"I was seeing my counselor today, Mr. Hendrickson, and he said I qualified for Honors Biology. Since I also qualified for some other Honors classes, I had to re-jigger my whole schedule... but the thing is dude, um... we're not in Biology together anymore. We're not in any classes anymore at all... we're not going to be seeing each other in school anymore." Kyle frowned, "Oh, also means I can't help with the homework much, well I mean I can help but..."

"No, dude, it's okay, I can just Google it or something... I mean... I'm happy for you... you can get into Honors classes and go to... you know... a big Ivy League school like you always wanted." Stan smiled, but it was a sad smile, as if accepting a fact one did not like and could not fully understand, but could not interfere with. "...we're still friends, right?"

"Of course dude, always..." Kyle pat him on the shoulder, smiling, trying to look optimistic. "We'll see each other around, it won't be any different..." The two boys tried to keep smiles on their faces, but neither could - neither was sure how much effort would be enough. Stan knew Kyle couldn't sacrifice his dreams for their friendship, but Kyle couldn't stand the thought of leaving his friend in the dust. "It'll be okay..."

xXx

"God, Stan, you're growing up so fast..." Randy Marsh said, grinning and laughing a bit, his hair thinner and grayer, his brown eyes now dark, looking as if he'd shrank and gained weight, "It's hard to believe your freshman year of High School is already almost over, huh?" he chuckled, "I remember when you were just a little eight year old boy, always coming to us with questions about aliens and condoms, ah, good times." Stan was pinching the bridge of his nose in back, slightly taller, with the same strong chin, same dark blue eyes, his messy black hair slightly longer, and his new green-and-black jacket over a white T-shirt. A familiar red-and-blue cap sat lazily on his head, almost forgotten. "You have fun now okay Stanley?"

"Thanks Dad." Stan got out and walked out in front of the school, quickly being joined by boy in a brown coat and a blue striped polo T-shirt with sunglasses, freckles and short wavy red hair, Kirk.

"Hey St-St-St-Stan. Hey remember An-An-Anthony from group? The s-s-s-senior? He got arrested for a D-D-DUI." he reported with glee. Stan nodded,

"Cool, dude." Stan nodded, looking around and sighing a bit. He'd gotten to know the place well, and yet, he'd drifted a lot out of the common scene of things. Kenny kept in sporadic contact, but as many promises were made to hang out 'next time' it never seemed to come. Kenny was always chasing off girls, and he never meant to hurt anyone, but damn he could be unreliable sometimes. Butters fell into another crowd but offered Stan a 'Happy Birthday' and similar such greetings every now and then. Cartman, well the rumor was after Dustin's buddies got sick of him, his misbehavior had him sent to a Behavioral Adjusment facility.

As Stan went to his locker, followed by Kirk, he noticed a group of boys - a tall Mexican boy with brown eyes and short hair in a black-and-white striped shirt laughing, a short boy with curly black hair, one strip died pink, green eyes and wearing an MTV T-shirt. They laughed along with the boy in between them: Kyle Broflovski. Stan looked at his old friend, having barely spoken to him in a while. Kyle looked back for just a moment. Stan opened his mouth, but closed it. As if the two had reached a mutual understanding, they returned to their previous tasks.

As Stan continued to his locker, he didn't notice his trademark cap fall off his head and be blown away in the wind.


	43. Dear World (suicide oneshot)

**Additional A/N: **One of the most well-recieved and most regrettable things I ever wrote. Please avoid this one.

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

Dear World,

If you're reading this, I'm dead. And you're all pretending to be sad. And that's exactly why I'm doing this.

It's human nature to feel guilt and sadness in the death of another - but it doesn't have a thing to do with the fact I'm dead. It has far more to do with death than with me. You were not concerned with me in life, but because you know you were indirectly responsible for what has happened to me you feel guilty. You're going to focus on all the good things I did and act like I was a Saint. And if I was alive, you'd think exactly what you did before, and you wouldn't give two shits if I lived or died. Until I died. And now you're all sitting there reading this note and pretending you don't know why this happened.

I've been contemplating this for a long time, actually. Sure back in the third grade everyone knew me. I was outspoken and I had a bright future ahead of me. I knew what I wanted to be and what I wanted to become - I studied hard, I kept an active socical life, and I was happy. And everything was fine, save the frequent destruction of the town and loss of friends, family and such. But everything changed for me in Junior High. Suddenly I changed. My friendships changed. My relationships changed. It was as if everyone I knew became a completely different person.

You all looked at me and called me a possessive bitch.I was a stupid possessive self-centered prima donna slutty lifeless drama queen bitch. Once the most popular girl in school suddenly I was nothing. If I took pride in my looks, I was being a prima donna. If I didn't, I was an attention whore. If I ate, I was a filthy pig. If I didn't eat, I was anorexic and shallow. If I spoke, I wasn't giving anyone else a chance to talk. If I didn't speak, I was letting everyone do the work for me. All because I was preventing them from being together. The town's "golden couple" - the two everyone knew would hook up.

Soon, I had no friends to confide in. My parents didn't even understand. And I had lost my childhood love and to ask for him back would only solidify what everyone had told me. I didn't deserve him. I was a worthless attention whore who only cared about her looks and her love life. Who argued for sake of arguing. Who was a know-it-all douchebag, yet knew absolutely nothing. It was venomous, and I had no way to deal with things. Writing didn't work - it felt meaningless without readers. And every time I was drawing the compliments were shallow, or the person next to me could do better.

I have a few last words for some choice people:

Mom &amp; Dad:

I love you guys. I really do. Don't for a minute doubt your parenting abilities - this was beyond your control. Dad, you were a great father and you were always there for me when I need you, even if you didn't understand the problem. But that was the problem - you never could understand. You tried to compensate by being overprotective, but all you did was alienate me. Mom, you were great and level-headed, but like dad, you just never seemed to understand. Popularity came naturally to you. Neither of you blame yourselves though, please.

Butters:

I never really got to know you, but you always said "hi" in the hallway. It probably was nothing to you, but it was everything to me. It was nice to know someone of the opposite sex noticed me. You were always just a really nice person.

Kenny:

I know you probably think I hated you but believe me, Kenny, you were a great friend. Every little compliment you gave me made my heart flutter just to know someone found me attractive. You were one of the last people who seemed to have any respect for me. And then finally you told me you couldn't talk to someone who made your friends miserable. That was freshman year. We haven't spoken since.

Eric Cartman:

The only boy who ever told me you loved me. And it was you. It was Eric Theodore Cartman, the fat, racist, foul-mouthed, self-centered psychotic sociopath. The boy who has attempted to begin numerous genocides and world domination. The boy who came out of the closet as a Junior and said "I didn't count." I should have reciprocated your feelings but I couldn't. You were... you. And then they told me we should get together because we were the moost hated kids in school. And then the day you surpassed me in popularity and laughed because you'd finally become popular after winning the big hockey game. I guess it's true when they say people change. I'm sorry I didn't love you back, Eric. Maybe I'm just a bitch for not accepting a sociopath's romance. When you piss on my grave, don't aim for the flowers, please.

Bebe:

I miss you. We used to be best friends. And then between Junior High and High School we stopped talking. I'd invite you over but you were apathetic to eveerything. Suddenly you didn't want to talk about shoes or animals or boys or causes. We had nothing in common anymore. It was as if you didn't care about anything. When I said "hi" to you, you stopped answering back. The next thing I knew I'd lost my best friend. Maybe we weren't the people we thought we were anymore. Maybe we both just grew up and apart. I guess we'll never know.

Heidi:

Words hurt. You're nothing but a selfish, back-stabbing bitch. You pretended to be my friend and then told everyone the truth about me, and still lied about it. You told everyone about my misdeeds. You told them how I took care of that bitch whole stole my love, and about the girls on Facebook. I couldn't trust anyone because of you. You made me feel like everythihng they said about me was right, and exposed every secret I had. Every time you called me a bitch, or a ditz, or a whore, the words sliced through my skin. I just hope you're happy with yourself.

Kyle:

I want to hate you. But somehow I can't. We're too alike. I can see myself in you. You have brown eyes, you're smart, you know politics, you're quick-to-anger... we have so much in common, I can't hate you. You're fiery and independent and at one point we were very similar people... but you kept your independence, your temper and you remain outspoken. I became the shy girl nobody liked. You blossomed into a popular, handsom young boy and then you came out of the closet and became a school-wide sensation. And then news came you had a crush on my boyfriend. I shrugged it off - it seemed like just a silly rumor. But I was in the way of your relationship and none of you would have that. And then everything just blew up. I'm sorry, Kyle. I'm sorry I prevented you two from being happy. I hope you both have a wonderful life together.

Stan 3:

I still love you, Stan. Always and forever. I'll never forget the first time I saw your face. I thought our love was written in the stars. Every moment I was with you, nothing mattered but us and everything was peaceful. I never expected things to end the way they did. I never expected you to come to my house and accuse me of going behind your back and trying to keep you from seeing Kyle because I allegedly hated gay people.. I never expected you to let me know Kyle had told you "everything" about Ms. Ellen and Facebook and the fake booobs. I never expected you to run off with Kyle and decide never to speak to me again. I should have seen it coming. Every moment we spent together was Kyle this, Kyle that. Or the fact you constantly puked on me. I know I wasn't the perfect girlfriend - no one could be. I thought we'd be together forever.

And I think of all the times you and Kyle and Eric were off on adventures without me, and how close you guys were. And how every time I seemed to get involved, Kyle seemed to be so upset. And suddenly it made sense - to everyone. You and Kyle loved each other. And suddenly everyone was convinced I was an anti-homosexual militant who hated all men and wouldn't let you be with other girls, all because of one thing that happened in the third grade. Of course I was a little jealous - I thought all girls got a little jealous. I thought, What kind of girl wouldn't be jealous seeing their man with another girl? But I guess I was wrong. I guess I was living in a fantasy world.

I didn't know you loved Kyle. How could I? I thought you loved me. You told me you loved me. I thought we'd been through so much together, but then again, you and Kyle were through so much more. I was blind to your pain and I'm sorry for that. When we had our little break-ups I shouldn't have taken you back - I shouldn't have been selfish and should have let you be with Kyle. I didn't want to prevent you from being happy, Stan. I never meant to prevent you from being happy. Now you and Kyle won't have to worry about me though. Now I'll just be a distant memory, that dumb girl who dated you for eight years. I hope you and Kyle have an amazing future together. I really, honest to God, do.

I guess that's it. I'm sorry, girls, I'm sorry for everything. I'm going to go take dad's gun out of the drawer. Chances are you'll all be seeing this letter in one hour, assuming my parents come home and time and call everyone, and they arrive on time. Cheers.

You all wanted me out of your lives. Now I am.

Sincerely,

Gwendolyn "Wendy" Marie Testaburger


	44. Secret Identity (KennyWendy)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

Wendy Marie Testaburger was walking down the dark streets of downtown South Park. She was a young girl with silky raven hair, big brown eyes, and a pink beret constantly on her head, her curvaceous form covered by a thick purple coat and thick yellow pants, to keep insulated and warm in the cold climate of Colorado. Wendy was very politically-minded and knew all of South Park's goings on. Her mother worked in the local town government, and she'd been clued in fairly early into South Park's most open of secrets.

Wendy's family knew the police department well - Officer Barbrady, stupid as he was, was like an uncle to her, coming along and having dinner with the family from time to time. Barbrady could be fairly resourceful at times, and she questioned how he could seemingly switch from a dope to a reasonable man. Sergeant Yates was a serious no-nonsense officer who ran the police force more so than Barbrady, despite being under rank, but had soft spots for prostitution and framing rich black men. Murphy was Yates' assistant and that's all she cared to find out.

Still, Wendy's interest in politics and the law had lead her away from City Hall and the self-concerned Mayor and the incompetent Police Station. No, now her interest was drawn to the legendary Mysterion. According to the drawings and few photographs that she was able to find, he was a child in a large dark blue cloak, with a question mark on a spring on his head. He wore a mask covering all but his mouth, and then had his cloak scarf-like wrapped around his neck. He wore a shirt with a lime green 'M' on it and dark green gloves, with a belt keeping underwear as 'tights'. Finally he had two thick brown boots.

Officially, Mysterion was no longer active. The hero,.after being arrested for vigitalantism, resigned his commission and gave away his costume. His identity was unknown still - few in the crowd had recognized him from afar, nobody listened to Cartman anyway, and the Police refused to disclose it.

Unofficially, the cloaked child still roamed the streets, fighting off crime and alerting the South Park Police Department via phone, letting them take all the credit while he fought to help people and stop all sorts of rape, vandalism and theft.

And that, is why Wendy was wandering the streets of downtown South Park, unamred, searching around, her brown eyes probing every building top, every alleyway, for the sign of Mysterion. "Show yourself, Mysterion." she said loudly. Nothing. She mumbled, kicking a can out of her way, when suddenly something large landed in front of her. She knew immediately it wasn't Mysterion. Perhaps he because it identified itself immediatedly.

"I am the powerful and mighty Coon." he declared. He wore a T-shirt with a stylized 'C' on it, and a black jacket over it. There was a utility belt as well, and he had claws. His eyes were shielded by a Halloween raccoon mask, and a pair of fluffy eyes from messy brunette hair. The figure was so wide though, Wendy immediatedly recognized the Eric Cartman behind the masks and robes and cape. "What help do you require, Wendy? I'm sure I can take care of it for you."

"No, I have to see Mysterion."

"Whatever you want from Mysterion, I can give you Wendy." the Coon claimed. Wendy did not need the Coon, however.

"Mysterion!" she shouted, "I know you're here, show yourself!" Finally, a large shadow landed in front of her, before straightening in front of her, blue eyes staring deep into her's.

"You called me?" came a deep, growly voice. Wendy was taken aback by the hero, eyes wide. She didn't expect Mysterion to be so... imposing. His blue eyes practically had a power on her, almost hypnotic. "Well?"

"We don't need you Mysterion, God, we were trying to have a private conversation you prick!"

"She was calling for me you fat piece of shit!" Mysterion cursed.

"Get out of here Coon, I need to speak with Mysterion in private." Wendy said with annoyance.

"Fine, if you two skanks want to be alone." the Coon shuffled off.

"What do you need Wendy?" Mysterion asked. Wendy stepped forward,

"I know who you are."

"What?"

"Don't try to hide it, Stan! Those blue eyes... it has to be you! You think I wouldn't recognize my own boyfriend?"

"Uh, what?" Wendy stepped forward, putting an arm on Mysterion's shoulder,

"Come on Stan, it's me, Wendy, your girlfriend. Why do you act so surprised?" she glided around him, smiling, features softening, "You know, you look handsome in that costume you know..." she mumbled.

"Wendy, you have to understand..."

"Oh, I understand, you don't want your loved ones getting hurt and all that. Trust me, I can defend myself... can't I just have one kiss? Like in Spider-Man? Oh but you'll-" the hero's arms were around her as his mouth was on her's. Wendy kissed back enthusiastically for a moment before pulling away.

"No puke, Stan?"

"...with his costume, I don't feel nausea at all. I feel confident."

"...you should come around more often wearing that." Wendy purred.

"Look Wendy, I have a lot of crime-fighting tonight, let me walk you home." Mysterion said, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving her his serious face.

"Oh fine, ruin my fun for tonight." she rolled her eyes, "I'll swing by again tomorrow Stan, don't worry..." Mysterion resisted the urge to so much as reply either way as he lead her to her home. After several moments of silence, he reached the Testaburger house in the wealthy part of town. And by wealthy part of town, I mean Wendy's and Token's houses. "Thanks Stan. I'll see you tomorrow." she kissed Mysterion's cheek and went inside.

Mysterion heaved a great sigh, "If only you knew the truth..." he said before wrapping himself in his cape and gliding away.

xXx

"Oh my God, Bebe, you won't believe what just happened!" Wendy Testaburger had done what any girl would do after seeing her beau dressed as a superhero - she called her best friend to brag. Bebe Stevens did what any girl would do if her best friend called her - she answered.

"What, what, what is it?" Bebe Stevens was a girl usually seen wearing red and/or gray with impossible golden blonde curls. She and Wendy were together considered the crown jewels of South Park's young women. Although, unlike Wendy, Bebe had dated several guys and was earning herself a reputation.

"He did the most romantic thing EVER, Bebe!" Wendy squeed, caught up in the romantic feeling, completely forgetting Mysterion's continued existence much less his identity remain a secret.

"What did he do, Wendy?" Bebe asked, ready to squee with her friend upon hearing whatever hopeless romantic stuff Stan had done.

"Ohh... I can't say Bebe, it's a secret..." Wendy sighed.

"Wendy! You call me and then hold out on me!" Bebe sounded just as much like a consoling parent as much as a friend getting pretty annoyed with her friend, "Spill!"

"Stan is Mysterion!"

"Oh my God, really!" Squees were had by the two girls, ear-pitching squeals that were powerful enough to cause ears to bleed. "It totally makes sense, superheroes are all muscular and stuff! Stan's totally muscular!" Bold squees like no girl has squeed before.

xXx

The central lunch table at school was filled with it's usual occupants: Eric Cartman, Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski, Kenny McCormick on one side. Opposite of them were Craig Tucker, Jimmy Valmer, Clyde Donovan, and Token Black. Cartman was a fat boy a third wider than anyone else who wore a red coat and had a yellow-and-blue cap on. Stan was a muscular boy with a strong chin and piercing blue eyes, black hair spilling out under a red-and-blue poofball hat, a brown coat on him. Kyle wore an orange jacket, and had a large green ushanka hiding curly red auburn hair, only a few curls sticking out. His orgasmic emerald eyes were focused on the pizza slice he was eating, as were the blue eyes of the boy next to him, who wore an orange hoodie covering all but those watchful eyes.

Craig wore a blue aviator cap with a yellow poof and a blue jacket and was eating completely normally. Jimmy was a cripple and was eating slowly - he had limited arm use since most of the time they were in his crutches. He has shaggy brown hair and wore a yellow shirt. Token was a black kid in a purple shirt- oh, what, that's offensive? Fine... Token was a boy with black hair in a purple shirt with a T on it. Finally, Clyde was a kid shoving tacoes in his mouth like there was no tomorrow, wearing a red-brown shirt with blue trim, and shaggy brown hair on top of his head.

"Haha, can you guys believe it? Look Kinney just has a fucking baloney sandwhich! So poor you have to take the stupid free lunch!" Cartman was laughing his ass off.

"Cartman, come on, it's not Kenny's fault his dad's a deadbeat loser." Kyle said.

"Oh easy for you to say Kyle, your dad's a rich Jew lawyer."

"Why do we sit with these losers again?" Craig asked Jimmy, who shrugged.

"Hey fellas, fellas! Over here, fellas!" The table south of them was calling and they turned. Butters Stotch sat with the unpopular kids today. Butters had a small puff of blonde hair and wore a light blue jacket. At his table with him was Tweek Tweak, a boy in a poorly buttoned gray shirt, twitching and shaking his blonde hair everywhere, Jason McHugh, who had dark brown hair, Kevin Stoley, with moppy black hair and a sky blue jacket, and finally opposite them were Bradley Biggle, a boy with blonde hair parted slightly in the middle and wearing a blue shirt, along with Dog Poo, who was dirty and had hair that looked gray and wore a faded jacket, and finally Bill and Fosse, a boy in blue with brown hair and a boy in purple with stringy black hair.

"What is it, Butters?" Cartman asked as they turned to face the unpopular table.

"Is it true?" Bradley asked.

"Is w-w-what true?" Jimmy asked. Kevin and Bradley exchanged looks.

"You haven't heard?" Jason asked.

"Heard what?" Token said, raising a confused eyebrow. There was giggling.

"Don't you do it, Jewboy!" Cartman said, glaring. Kyle had a hand over his mouth. "Continue." Cartman said.

"...heard what?" Token asked again.

"Bird bird bird, bird is the-"

"Fucking Family Guy fan! Bill, Fosse, get his arms." Cartman said as Bill and Fosse got up and quickly grabbed Kyle's arms, Fosse putting an arm over Kyle's mouth.

"Heh, we were eatin' lunch and now we're, heh, we're being henchmen, heheh." Fosse chuckled.

"Hehehh, henchmen are gay." Bill said, following in his friend's footsteps.

"Heheh, we're gay."

"So what is it?" Clyde asked as the others resumed their talk.

"Well, uh, we were just wondering if, uh..." Kevin began.

"JESUS! I CAN'T TAKE IT! Is it true Stan's Mysterion?" Tweek twitched frantically. All eyes landed on Stan.

"Uh, what?" Stan said. "Come on guys, we all know Mysterion hasn't been active since Captain Hindsight came back."

"Yeah, and besides the Coon's been taking care of the crime in South Park. Why just last night he saved Wendy from getting raped by, uh, by a big burly black man!" Cartman said, sipping some milk, before realizing Token was glaring, "What's your problem?"

"Big burly black man?"

"Okay, okay, sorry... big, burly, African-American man!"

"No, not that! My family's the only African-Americans in town!"

"Oh... right... your dad's a rapist, Token." SLAP.

"Wendy was in trouble?" Stan said several times until Cartman finally replied,

"Yeah, but the Coon saved her. Because he's the coolest superhero of all-time." Suddenly something banged into the table. Everyone turned to see Kenny's fists firm on the table. "What's wrong, Kinney?"

"Nothing..."

"So Stan, is it true or not?" Butters asked.

"I... I mean, uh... I might be, I might not be, because his identity has to remain a secret." Stan fibbed to cover it up.

"But Stan, I thought you were Toolshed." Bradley interrupted.

"Bradley!" Stan said.

"Dude, come on." Kevin argued, "Bebe and Red told us it was Stan. They wouldn't lie to us."

"Look guys, let's give Stan some breathing room. Maybe he's Mysterion, maybe he's not. Why does it matter?" Clyde said. Everyone returned to their meals after a brief pause, as if nothing had happened. It wasn't much longer afterward until the school bell rang and Kenyn went off to his locker, when suddenly he heard a voice he was dreading.

"Kenny, can I talk to you?"

Kenny turned around, "Sure, what is it?"

"Look, this isn't about... you know... but I just wanted to know what happened last night with Wendy. I mean you do know, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, what happened?" Stan asked.

"Wendy wanted to talk with the Coon attacked her. Mysterion then scared off the Coon and walked her home." Kenny answered.

"Oh, okay. Thanks dude." Stan nodded, leaving.

Kenny sighed...

xXx

Nothingness.

The human mind is impossible to describe in the words of any mortal language, and the true depths of it remain unknown to even the most advanced of psychologists. Many things ran through Kenny McCormick's mind on a daily basis. Currently there was little to see - simply two figures standing across from each other. Pure, unending blackness with the exception of the two figures. Living within the shell of Kenny's mind, they looked quite similar - one wore a black parka, with wild red eyes. The other looked similar, but wore a white parka, his eyes a holy shade of gray with little difference. The two opposite ends of the spectrum - the light and dark that survive within all. Somehow, the angel and devil worked together.

"It's not right."

"What?"

"It's not fair to Stan. We can't betray him like this." the Angelic Kenny said, a familiar piercing glare narrowed at his other self.

"Who gives a fuck about Stan? This doesn't involve him."

"Doesn't involve him? Fuck you, this does. Wendy is Stan's girlfriend!" the Angel cried, staring directly at the Devil Kenny.

"Why should we let Stan ruin our fun? Stan has everything he could want - a loving family, intelligence, looks, athleticism, a best friend who gives a shit about him! He can let us have one thing to ourselves? Just a night? Nothing happened Kenny, it was just a kiss!"

"Just a kiss!" Angel Kenny stepped forward, "We MADE. OUT. WITH STAN'S. GIRLFRIEND. He's still one of our best friends! And you know damn well what YOUR intentions were - you would've fucking raped her!"

"Fuuuuuck you." the Devil Kenny said, "You think you're so goddamn righteous! You put on that fuckin' costume and suddenly you think you're in control!"

"We're telling Stan and that's final!" the Angel Kenny turned but Devil Kenny turned him, the two eyes meeting in intense glares.

"No, this isn't ending. You know as well as I do we need Wendy."

"It's... good that we have a girl with us. It is. But is it worth backstabbing Stan for her? She doesn't love us. She loves Stan. She thinks we're Stan. It's not the same. It's not the same as having a girl nuzzle our neck and mumble 'Kenny' It's not the same as having her yell 'Kenny! Kenny!'. Don't you understand?" the Devil Kenny said nothing and stubbornly turned away. "Fine then..."

"Can't we make her fall for Kenny?" finally came the Devil.

"No... it doesn't work that way..."

"Can't we try?"

"No." And with that, the two figures both faded into the emptiness of Kenny McCormick's mind, the decision finalized. Angel Kenny had won, and Stan was soon to discover the truth if all went according to plan.

Stuart McCormick was not a patient man. Quite the opposite actually, though one could easily surmise as such based on his current state of dashing through Hell's Pass Hospital with his wife, who was screaming. He looked like a redneck hick - he wore a hat saying 'SCOTCH' and had on a mechanic's shirt over a T-shirt, a pair of pants lazily held up by a belt, as he pushed past senior citizens, cancerous innocents, an AIDS-infected man insisting to the nurse he did not have sexual relations with another man, and a Doctor performing a prostate examination... or molesting one of his patients. Whatever the case, he pushed past, and quickly reached a room.

"Gah, S'uart, get a nurse or somethin'! Bein' in a hosp'al won't do no fuckin' good with jus' us you s'upid hick!'" His wife was a woman in her twenties with fiery red hair and piercing green eyes who's entire wardrobe consisted of a lime green T-shirt that says "I'm with a Stupid", a similar one with an American flag, and a darker green one. And three identical pairs of jeans. Currently, however, she was wearing the "I'm With Stupid" shirt, one of the pairs of jeans and a surgical cap.

"Shut up you stupid bitch, I'm trying!" Stuart said, glaring at his wife of some number of years he didn't bother remembering. All he bothered remembering is that she had good looks, she was a dumb bitch, and something about things crawling out of her vagina from time to time. Whatever the case, he was now in the hallway, "Nuuuuuurse!" he yelled. Wendy Testaburger approached, her hair obscured by a surgical cap, dressed in a uniform.

"All of the nurses are busy, sir. I'm a volunteer here, perhaps I can help?"

"Any help is help." Stuart yanked the young girl into the room with his wife, who was screaming in immense pain.

"Is she giving birth?"

"You really must be a volunteer, eh? 'course she is!" Stuart said, glaring at Wendy. She shrugged, taking the woman's hand.

"It's going to be okay, just push." Wendy advised as the woman writed in pain.

"Augh! It fuckin' hurts, Stu! Ya think I'd be used to it by now!"

"Used to it? Do you have other children?"

"Other children?" Stuart chuckled, "Yeah, we've had plenty of other kids. Can ya believe it Carol? She has to be new."

"Push, Mrs.-" Wendy paused, "Uh, what did you say your names were again?"

"Stuart and Carol McCormick." Stuart answered, taking a chug from a bottle of vodka.

"Oh, Kenny's parents? Uh, push Mrs. McCormick, push." Wendy said, "So Kenny's getting a new sibling, huh?" Wendy tried to hide her distaste for the McCormick's son. Kenny wasn't that bad of a kid, but he was so obsessed with unnatural womanly figures and he messed around with drugs and alcohol. Perhaps she was just a prude, but she had a hard time tolerating him at times. She looked up but Stuart was laughing his ass off. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing, it's just, uh, forget about it..."

"No... I won't forget about it." Wendy's eyes narrowed into that calculating position, "What's so funny, Mr. McCormick?"

"AUGH!" Carol's screams called their attention back, "IS HE OUT?"

"Yeah, I can see his head poking out." Stuart said with a smirk.

"Keep 'yer eyes off me you prick!" Carol said, kicking at her husband before screaming again. Within a few moments however, the baby was delivered, and Wendy was able to find some towels to wrap it in. Stuart cut the chord and Wendy held the little baby, staring into his ocean blue eyes.

"It's a boy."

"Of course it is." Stuart laughed.

"...let me go find a birth certificate or something... sorry, this is my first delivery."

"Oh we don't need a birth certificate." Stuart said, "We'll be on our way now."

"Mr. McCormick, that's a newborn baby, it's against protocal to-"

"Look, you're a volunteer, there's some stuff you don't understand here, but we... we come here very often."

"I don't follow."

"Look, we better get going. Uh, see you around!" Carol pulled up her jeans and adjusted them, took off her surgical cap, and she and Stuart hurried out without a word.

xXx

In the hallways of South Park Elementary just before lunch, Stan Marsh and Kenny McCormick were discussing the latest episode of Terrance and Phillip, debating Phillip's father's sudden devotion to cooking and how it affected the overall continuity of the show when they were interrupted by Wendy, who was covered within seconds with a significant amount of puke.

"Sorry Wendy." apologized Stan.

"It's fine. Actually I'd like to speak to Kenny... alone." she said.

"Uhh, okay dude." Stan shrugged, wondering what his girlfriend wanted with his friend. He let it go as Wendy pulled Kenny aside.

"Hey Kenny, I just wanted to congragulate you on the new brother." Wendy said smiling.

"...new brother?" he raised an eyebrow, oblivious.

"Yeah, your parents came into the hospital yesterday. Your mother had a healthy baby boy." she nodded.

"That's weird."

"What? Haven't you seen him?"

"Nope."

"That's... strange." Wendy said, "They said they came around all the time, too... Kenny, do your parents even own condoms? Oh God, they could be abandonding their infants-"

"Dude relax, my mom wasn't pregnant, it's impossible. She was on her period."

"How do you know, Kenny?"

"Our toliet doesn't work right."

"Women bleed after they give birth, you know."

"Aw shit dude, they do?" Kenny said, eyes widening. "I might have another brother or sister? Fuck! I tried to stop them, I tried!"

"Don't worry, I know just the person who can save him." Wendy smiled, eyes floating from the orange-clad boy to Stan, who was arguing with Kyle now about the fact Terrance's mom is apparently not from Ontario or something. Kenny felt a twinge of guilt, knowing what Wendy meant, putting a hand on Wendy's shoulder,

"Look Wendy, we need to talk about something..."

"Uh, sure, what?" Her eyes did not move back.

"It's just that... well, I-"

"Hey Wendy, over here!" Bebe was waving Wendy over as if life depended on it, "You won't believe what happened at Red and Annie's sleepover yesterday!"

"Ohh, did Red finally spill?" Wendy turned to Kenny, "Uh sorry dude, I have to go. I'll talk to you about this again later I guess. See you Kenny!" she said before hurrying off, "What happened?"

"Well Annie asked Red who she liked, and-" Kenny didn't care to hear what this conversation was and kicked at the ground, mumbling under his breath. The girls had already left at this point though, so they were only noticed by a few of the boys.

"What's wrong, Kenny?" asked Kevin Stoley in his same sky blue jacket with red trim, eyebrow raised. He had just put on his backpack preparing to leave.

"It's... complicated." Kenny explained, not exactly willing to pour out his feelings in front of Star Wars kid.

"Dude, come on, you're not going to feel better if you bottle it up. It'll just fuck you up in the long run." Kevin said, "Besides Red's sitting with the girls today, and Bradley's off fighting crime. So it's not like I have anything better to do."

"Look, I uh... this girl likes me, she really likes me, but... she thinks I'm someone else. That's all I can really say."

"Ohh, that sucks dude." Kevin said. "Do you like her?"

"Well I mean, kind of I guess. She's smart, she's not just an airhead or anything, or a bitch like Heidi either. And she's pretty, I can't lie there, but- whatever. What should I do?"

"I don't know." Kevin shrugged.

"You should tell her the truth." Craig said, walking by. "Tell the girl the truth and she'll respect you for it. God, don't you guys know anything about girls?"

"Yeah, we do Craig! My best friend is a girl!"

"Yeah, yeah Kevin, keep bragging about it." Craig left casually, as if nothing had happened.

"Dick." Kevin mumbled.

"You're not the one who has to sit with him at lunch." Kenny laughed.

xXx

Wendy Testaburger stood at City Hall. She'd called out his name several times now, but alas, he had yet to show. Her stupid boyfriend. Obviously, he was teasing her. Asshole. Wendy sighed, calling out the name again. Stan, er, Mysterion was not choosing to show tonight. Bastard. She bit her lip - how could he betray her? Ugh. She would give him such a damn speech at school tomorrow. She's his girlfriend! He can't do this to her! As these thoughts raced threw her head at the speed of a million bullets, a shadow dropped in front of her, "I apologize for not being at your side sooner. The sixth graders were holding up Happy Burger again. What is it you need?" his blue eyes stared into her's and she melted, and all was forgiven.

"Stan!" she squealed, leaning in and kissing the hero longingly. Mysterion fought his urge at first, but after a moment responded - his real self got the better of him and split them apart.

"I appreciate you dropping by, but what's the emergency?"

"It's the McCormicks..." she explained, his heart sinking, "They were in the hospital the other day and Mrs. McCormick gave birth to an infant. I don't know what the deal was but regardless, they had a child and according to Kenny, he has no younger brother." The hero's eyes suddenly were not glaring into the figure in front. No, rather, the hero looked solemn, his eyes staring at something that could not be seen.

"I see." he said simply, "We'll need to investigate this. Do you have any theories?"

"All I can imagine is they killed or abandoned the infant..."

"It was born yesterday?"

"Correct."

"What time of day?"

"Early afternoon."

"What did it look like?"

Wendy paused, "He had deep blue eyes and a few hairs so thin I couldn't tell what color. And puffy cheeks." Mysterion's free hand - the one not supporting him on the ground in that squat-esque position - was now on his chin. He was clearly deep in thought. "Look, let's just go to Kenny's House and investigate."

"No!" Mysterion cried a tad more loudly than intended, "I mean... it's too late to bother the McCormicks. And it'd be tough to get into their house... there must be another way." he sighed, "Look Wendy, there's something you should know about me... I'm not who you think I am."

"What do you mean, Stan?"

"Wendy, I'm not Stan." Mysterion said.

"Of course you are! Who else could you be?"

"My identity must remain a secret..." he said, turning, "But I am not Stan."

"Who in our classroom has blue eyes? Stan, Kenny, Butters, Tweek, Pip and Bradley. Butters is grounded and too loyal to run off from his parents. Tweek's addicted to caffiene and couldn't don a costume and run around fighting crime. Bradley barely even talks, and Pip? Nobody's seen Pip in months.*"

"What about Kenny?"

"Kenny? Really?" Wendy chuckled, "Kenny's a selfish single-minded pervert." Mysterion kept his back to her.

"Be careful what you say."

"Why?"

"Someone just might hear you."

"Oh Stan, I know Kenny's your friend but it's true. He's selfish." she said, crossing her arms.

"Selfish? Oh it's so easy for you, Testaburger!" Mysterion turned, rushing at her and pointing right at her, "Your life is so easy! Live with your wealthy parents, a City Planner mom, get high grades without trying, hang around with friends who care about you, and whenever you're down, your beloved boyfriend makes you feel better. Try living with parents who fight and drink, with pop-tarts and frozen, stale waffles for dinner! Try having friends who barely notice anything you do! Try sacrificing your life for thousands of people, for your friends, for the people you care about, only to wake up with nobody remembering a goddamn thing!" Mysterion glared, their faces inches apart as those blue eyes scowled into the brown ones.

"I didn't know Kenny's life was so tough..." she said quietly.

"Kenny's life? Kenny's life? You still don't get it!" Mysterion pushed back his hood and tore off the facemask underneath it, "I'm Kenny! Don't you get it! It's me! It's been me all along!"

"What!" At this, Wendy was intensly petrified, stepping back a few feet, eyes wide at Kenny, who glared with rage, "It can't be..."

"Why not? Because it has to be your precious, darling Stan?" he said, "Because it can't be that selfish asshole pervert Kenny McCormick? Is that why?"

"...Kenny." Wendy's eyes widened, and she turned, saying nothing more.

"Look Wendy, I'm sorry, but there's something you need to understand... come with me..." Wendy did not wish to move, but Kenny grabbed her arm and quickly pulled her with him to the McCormick home, formerly the Broflovski-McCormick clubhouse. They entered through a window and into Kenny's room. Kenny looked both ways, then opened the closet, "Get in." he commanded, and Wendy quietly hid in the closet, sitting atop a tarp as he closed the door, leaving a crack. "Now you will understand my pain. Now watch, stay put, and remember. Try to remember." The boy pulled a small pistol out from his utility belt and pointed it into his mouth.

"No!" BANG. Blood spattered on the wall, and Kenny's corpse had fallen down backwards. Wendy's eyes widened as the body stood there. She wished to leave the room, to hold him, to mutter things, to apologize, but nothing happened. For several long moments, she just stood there in the darkness, staring at the blood and the corpse. And within seconds, before her very eyes, it faded away. As if she had been watching a ghost, suddenly there was nothing there but a stain in the carpet that had seemingly dried within seconds. Wendy's eyes were taking their dear time registering what had happened. A part of her brain denied it was possible. And then there was a loud moan snapping her to reality.

"AUGH! STUART! OH MY GOD! AAAAH!" There was moaning and grunting and rambling Wendy couldn't discern. She barely saw a thing for several moments when she saw a sleepy woman enter, fiery red hair down her back, eyes half-lidded, "Poor baby." she mumbled, holding the same infant Wendy had seen before, eyes closed. Kenny's mother approached the bed and pulled an orange coat off the ground. Kenny's father appeared with her, placing the coat on the bed, open and ready. The woman gently put the smiling baby down.

"I told you." the man said as they returned to the door way.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. We shoulda never gone to that stupid cult meetin'." she mumbled as the door closed. The baby quickly drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the coat as if it was a blanket. The baby looked very peaceful, and after a few moments of comprehension of what had just occurred, Wendy suddenly understood. She gently opened the closet door and approached the bed. She looked down at the baby, bent over and kissed it lightly on the forehead.

"I'm sorry, Kenny." she said, leaving the baby alone and climbing out the window, leaving Mysterion to rest in peace.

The End


	45. Tapestry (Gen, Kenny-centric)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

Dr. Alfonz Mephesto was working in his laboratory at the South Park Genetic Engineering ranch, in his usual yellow floral shirt and hat, carefully tearing the back end off a young mouse who tried to escape. He sighed - why did they never realize he was helping them? He took a sip from his Fonseca as he put down his scalpel and turned, "Did you hear something, Kevin?" The small, tanned, monkey-like boy next to him shrugged. "Hm, maybe it's nothing..." there was a loud knock, "Someone is at the door. They never want to leave us alone..." Mephesto approached the door, picking up his cane and looking through his peephole, "Hello, who is there?"

"I am Professor Chaos, bringer of destruction and creator of doom!" came a loud voice, "Aw, General Disarray, am I holding this thing, right? Uhh, let us in, Dr. Mephesto or we will, uh, steal all of your socks and, uh, pour gravy all over them... and then, uh, give them a homeless shelter... General Disarray, that's a good threat right?"

"Well yeah, I mean, if he doesn't have socks to wear, he can't put shoes on or go outside, I mean..."

"Wait a minute... neither of you are African-American, are you?"

"Hey woah, woah, that is not cool, Mephesto, that's racist. This isn't the fifties anymore!" General Dissaray scolded as Mephesto sighed,

"I didn't mean it like, that, I just- fine, fine, I'll let you in. Just don't touch my socks." Mephesto undid his many locks and pulled the door open. Chaos and Disarray dashed in quickly, Chaos' cape swaying in the wind as they confronted him, "What do you want from me?"

"We need your evil m-m-mutation serum, the one you used on, uh, on all those turkeys and stuff., you know? We have some minions and it'd be awful useful, I mean, gee, Dr. Mr. Mephesto, it'd really make our day, you know?" explained Professor Chaos, taking out a cartoonish toy gun. Regardless, Mephesto and his assistant put their hands behind their heads.

"I found another one." General Disarray said, approaching and pushing Terrance in with his father and adopted brother, "He was in the basment. He has his own lab and everything, it's super cool."

"Insolent plebians, don't you dare lay so much as a hand on me, I'll turn you all into frogs." Terrance said angrily, "Just you wait, you hear me? I'll kick each and everyone one of your multiple collective asses." Apparently there were some things Mephesto had yet to teach his son about human anatomy versus genetically modified animal anatomy.

"...okay, good job General Disarray. Now, uh, where's that serum again?" Chaos asked, pounding his tinfoil gloved fists together.

"Not so fast, Chaos!" They turned to see in the doorway, a powerful figure the same height as Chaos, a dark cape swaying in the wind as blue eyes glared forward, the majority of his face hidden by a black face mask and a dark hood, attached to the cape around his neck scarf-like. The figure wore a mauve jumpsuit with briefs on over it, along with brown boots, green gloves and a big green 'M' on his chest. Finally, off the top of the hood was a springy question mark.

"M-Mysterion? Aw shucks, Mysterion, I'm kind of... I mean, I..." Chaos pounded his fists together yet again. General Dissaray turned and began to run but Chaos grabbed the back of his costume and pulled his back - they were facing this threat together.

"Uh, what the hell is going on here?" Mephesto asked, arms behind his back. His sons sat as well, looking around, "Blame me for my reclusive habits, but... since when does this town have a hero?" Disarray stood by the Mephesto family, holding the gun and taking Mephesto's keys to prevent an escape.

"His name's Mysterion, sir, he's one of the lead m-members of the goody t-two shoe Coon and Friends." Chaos explained, clenching his fists, "Why, sometimes they like to beat me up just for fun... it's real depressing, sir. I cover it all in this pamphlet." Chaos took out a small pamphlet labelled 'THE RISE OF PROFESSOR CHAOS, by Leopold B. Stotch'

"Your reign of terror is over Professor Chaos!" Mysterion said, approaching the supervillain with the glare of those blue eyes, "Your days of evil are coming to a swift end."

"That's what you think, Mysteri-dork!" General Disarray approached a large cage and inserted the keys. Mephesto looked horrified - this wasn't going to be a multi-assed unicorn. No, this was going to be far more deadly, "Escape, my pets!" he called as a Deinonychus antirrhopus left the cage, brown-orange scales glistening in the light, the tiger stripes accentuating the animal's body. It let out a low growl as Disarray and Chaos stepped aside, leaving it on a clear, head-on path with Mysterion.

"Bring it on!" Mysterion said, putting up his fists as the dinosaur pounced on him, knocking him down and proceeding to stab into his increasingly bloodied torso with the claws of his feet, sticking his snout into the exposed chest cavity to swallow flesh. It took only a few moments for the hero's final painful breath to pass.

xXx

Mephesto. Stan's birthday. Cthulhu. Nascar. Muhammad. The water park. The Coon. Tammy. Peru. Imaginationland. Sockbath. Wacraft. Chef. Heaven. Hell. Paris Hilton. Mr. Jefferson. Togukawa. The Raisins girls. Mitch Connor. Hell's Pass Hospital. The Thompsons. The Tenormans. Nerds. Timmy. Chinpokomon. Canada. Kelly. Evil Cartman. Chickenpox. Mecha-Streisand. That hot substitute. Zombies. Elton John. Scuzzlebutt. Visitors. Butters. Chef. Kyle. Stan. Cartman. Karen. Kevin. Dad. Mom.

Memories flushed through his head before he even knew where he was. The first thing the hero realized was he was completely nude. Although he was not ashamed of his body in itself, he was ashamed to be naked, and sat up so his knees hid any views of his genitals. He also felt the urge to cover his face for reasons he did not yet fully understand. His costume was gone - he was no longer Mysterion. Now he was just Kenny. Kenneth "Kenny" James McCormick. He sighed. Fuck.

"Hey there, Kenny!" came a familiar voice. Kenny looked up to see stark nothingness, except a black shadow walking toward him. There was not even a visible line between sky and ground. All was just white. There were no true shadows, yet there was light, and yet still this figure was not illuminated. The shadow approached him, "I was wondering when you'd get your ass over here." The shadow suddenly 'stepped into the light' revealing Damien, the son of Satan.

"Damien, what the fuck are you doing here?" Kenny asked, his high-pitched boyish voice surprising him. Damien chuckled, holding a cane and smirking at the boy like he'd asked the stupidest of stupid questions - the kind of look Mr. Garrison gives Clyde when he's sitting there doing nothing.

"Well Kenny, I'm not actually here right now. I'm merely a physical manifestation of your subconcious to help you make sense of your current state." Damien laughed, "Nah, we were going to do that but it didn't make much sense in the full context, it's really me, asswipe. Now, do you know where we are?"

"Oh... okay... uh, no I have no fucking clue where we are. How about you tell me, o Son of Satan?" Kenny asked sarcastically, getting very annoyed with the amount of exposition the author was making him work through just to get to the basics.

"We're in limbo, Kenny. You're in between life and death right now." Damien explained, "You see, Kenny, you're not dead, but you're not alive. You're in between the realms of the living and the dead. As usual you've died temporarily, but you've been summoned to limbo rather than to Heaven, or Hell." he explained, "Now Kenny, we're aware your deepest desire is to die forever, correct? You're sick of being killed and coming back without anyone even noticing, right?"

"...Damien, stop fucking with me, what are you proposing?" Kenny asked with a glare. Damien turned around and grinned,

"What if I told you, as long as we're in limbo, I can let you go back and change your life completely?"

Dead and complete silence. Nothing could be heard for a few moments. Or perhaps several hours. Or maybe even countless days. "You're lying."

"I'm not. I am going to let you go back to the day your parents were at the cult meeting, drank heavily and performed the spell that turned you into what you are today. You'll change history. And then you can finally come to terms with your powers." Damien said, "What do you say, Kenny?"

"Yes, of course, but you're really going to take that chance? I could change history." Kenny noted. Damien laughed as he held back his head,

"Like I give a fuck if history is changed for your pathetic mortals." He then snapped his fingers. Blackness.

xXx

April 25th, 2002

Carolyn "Carol" Rose Flynn, a sixteen-year-old girl who could pass for twenty, crossed her arms as she looked at her boyfriend, a twenty-eight-year-old man who's favored item was a cap that said 'SCOTCH' on it. Carol was fairly attractive, with long fiery red locks, quick blue eyes, a fierce right hook, and a rather impressive figure. She currently work shorts and a pink T-shirt, along with some heavy eyeliner, "Stuart, that free beer thing's in jus' fifteen minutes!"

"Get off my back, babe, this is almost over." Stuart James McCormick replied, taking a sip from a water bottle - he was for once controlling himself, if only for the promise of free beer later. "I have to finish this movie. It's not every day their air something with Nick freakin' Adams in it." he told his girlfriend. Stuart may have been older than her, but their maturity levels - however it could be measured - weren't too wildly different. Stuart sat on the couch in his white workshirt, his light brown hair short and neat, along with his mustache.

"Stuart, one o' these days ya really gotta explain to me this whole Nick Adams thing to me." Carol put her hands on her hips. A small part of her brain nagged her that it wasn't a good idea to be going drinking, but dammit she'd carried that new baby for nine months and it had been practically impossible to control her drinking habits, so she was entitled to drink herself to death just this once after the pregnancy had ended.

Stuart perked up suddenly, remembering something and turning to his girlfriend as Frankenstein's monster struggled with some kind of subterranean creature with a glowing horn and huge ears, "By the way, there was thing on earlier about uh, what's his face, it was after the Denver Broncos coverage, you know that Tenorall guy's doing damn good this season... oh, it was, uh... it was before the thing with that South American dude, or before that girl from TLC died-"

"What! You're shittin' me!" Carol shook her head to focus on the task at hand - as tragic as the death of a celebrity who's music she pirated off her (future) brother-in-law was, now was not the best time to begin crying hysterically and singing 'I Miss You So Much', "That's not important right now, Stuart." she insisted,

"Right, right... so where is this place?" Stuart changed the subject, not in the mood to see his live-in girlfriend break down on him. "I have a shit feeling that pickup ain't gonna last much longer before it finally kicks the friggin' bucket..." he warned her, somewhat unwilling to admit the only car he'd ever owned was nearing the point it could no longer function properly.

"What? We'll talk about that later..." she shook her head and focused on the task at hand, "Oh, it's at the old McElroys place. Ain't it a shame only Jim's left here. It'd be nice to see Thomas and Nellie again." Carol noted, "He's holding the event in the basement or somethin', hell if I remember. Elm Street, I think it was."

"Oh, good, we can walk there then." Stuart told her when the doorbell rang. He turned, "Huh. Maybe Jim's looking for us?" he looked to his girlfriend, who shrugged. Stuart stepped forward and answered to see a ten-year-old boy in an orange parka, blue eyes all he could see, the rest of his face obscured by the jacket and the brown fuzz around his face. His arms were crossed. Stuart raised an eyebrow. "Uh, do I know you, kid?"

"Yes. Yes you do." Kenny instructed his younger parents, "You can't go to that cult meeting." he was looking at them with the kind of look a stern parent gives a disobedient child, "Understand that right now. You shall not pass." he told them. Stuart and Carol exchanged confused glances.

"Kid, where d'you get off telling us what we can and can't do?" Stuart said, putting down his bottle, "We're grown adults and you're just... eight... or ten or... nine or somethin'. We make the decisions, not you." he explained, "We'll go to that meetin' whether we like it or not."

"Are you planning to bring your sons? Kevin and Kenneth?" Kenny sneered, trying to be subtle and doing a terrible job at it. He was not letting his young self be taken, or his brother. He had to prevent this fucking curse. Carol's eyes went wide as she stepped forward, glaring,

"Don't you dare bring our children into this!" she told him, "Ya little bastard, we would never do anything to put our children in harm's way! I gave up drinking for nine months TWICE over them!" Nobody dared threaten to insult her children in her presence. Fuckers.

Stuart raised a finger to correct her, looking uncharacteristically nervous, "Uh, seven months, sweetie, we didn't know you were pregnant with Kevin right-"

"Godammit Stuart, shut the hell up, yer not helpin' at all!" Carol narrowed her eyes at her husband, but Stuart narrowed his. Challenge accepted.

"Look, I know you're going there for the free beer... I'll buy you some beer at the store, okay?" Kenny suggested, "How many you want? I have enough for a six-pack. It's about two months' allowance but this time it'll be worth it. Sam Adams is $8 right?"

"Aw, hell no, that Sam Adams stuff tastes like crap!" Carol said, always a woman to appreciate some good alcohol, "Can't you afford somethin' a little nicer?"

"My parents are cheap bastards and only give me a dollar a week." Kenny explained, "Buy whatever beer you want, okay?" he told her with annoyance, "Just, buy it. Don't go to that Jim guy's house for it. I'm serious, mo- Carol." he corrected himself.

"No way, either you bring us some a'tual beer or we're goin' kid, don't you try an' stop us." Carol told him, putting her hands on her hips, "And quiet down, you'll wake the damn kids."

"Fine. Give me half an hour, I'll bring you back beer and won't charge you a fuckin' time." Kenny nodded, leaving his parents behind and walking to the normal sector of town. It wasn't long before a car stopped near him - he turned to see a U-haul, a Jewish man in his thirties sticking his head out, with dark brown hair and permanent marks under his eye that made him look high. He had a lopsided yamulke,

"Hi there kid, can you tell me where Bonanza Street is?" he asked, "We're new in town, just moving in from Newark. I grew up here but it's sooo different now." The man had a goofy smile, and seemed more curious about telling everyone his life story than the actual directions.

"Well dude, it's about a block over, I'm on my way there now." Kenny nodded - he seemed to recognize this man but couldn't place him. He shrugged as the man looked to his wife,

"Gerald, come on, we have to get there soon, the baby's kicking!" came the voice of a woman with an accent Kenny couldn't identify. The man stuck his head back out the window,

"Thanks kid." Gerald Broflovski told him before driving away. Kenny crossed the street once the car was gone and walked around, passing a street corner when he saw someone else he recognized, but she did not look any different than when he knew her.

"Oh, hello there, sir. What kinda service you lookin' for, hon?" she winked, "I'm having a sale tonight. No questions asked. How's $25 for a BJ sound?" she told him in that sugary voice Kenny still associated with cookies even though he was far more familiar with her true self than anyone else he knew. "I'm sorry, sweetie, is this your first time with an escort? I don't normally work the street corner but I'm a little cash-strapped..."

"Is that your car?" Kenny interrupted her, motioning to the nearby car, because I don't really know much about cars and am going to admit that instead of making something up for the sake of a narrative and looking stupid for being innacurate.

"Yes, it is." she admitted, "Look, sugar lump, I don't mean to bug you, but I could really use the money and I promise you, I'm very skilled-"

"I appreciate the offer but for now I'll have to decline. Maybe some other time." Kenny said simply as he approached the car, "Uh, there's a baby in there."

"I can explain, sir, please, I just... one day I let one of my clients get a little carried away is all..." The woman replied, "But that's why I'm here, I need the money. Poor little Eric is going to grow up so lonely, without a father to guide him through the world, the least I can do is support him and myself." Kenny sighed.

"Don't spoil him, Ms. Cartman, your son'll grow up to be quite a bastard if you do. No offense." he replied, walking past her, "Seeya." Liane raised an eyebrow shrugged, and stayed at her chosen street corner. Then Kenny suddenly knew exactly where to find beer.

xXx

"Oh, it's so easy for you, Sharon, all you have to do is cook and clean! How often do you so much as leave the house!"

"Really? That's your excuse? Randy, all you do is sit at the geology station and drink beer all day!"

"That's not true! I analyze rock samples and stuff! You're just a dumb receptionist or something!" Randy Marsh was incredibly offended his wife would insinuate such a complicated, strenuous job was nothing but enjoyment - unlike doing papework, that's obviously super fun for her.

"Or something? God, you're such a child!" Sharon crossed her arms, turning her back to her husband, getting sick of, as she saw it, being the single parent of three children. One of which was in his thirties.

Randy was quiet for a moment before sneering with anger, "Well that makes you a pedophile!" he told her, blowing a raspberry at her.

"Oh, great, now we're stealing jokes from Family Guy - can't you be a little more creative than that?"

"How many children do you know with doctorates in geology, huh?"

"Says the man who nearly dropped out of High School to work in a stupid boy band that made shitty music and waited two years to actually go to college - face it, Randy, you're an oaf!"

"Cry me a freakin' river!"

"Mommy, daddy..." a girl around three with dark borwn hair approached, in gray-and-pink pajamas and looking quite tired, and a bit frightened, "Somebody's at the door..."

"Shelly dear, you can take care of it, can't you? Your mother and I are having a... very serious discussion right now!" Randy told her. Shelly nodded and answered the door, seeing a boy in an orange hoodie.

"Hiya." Shelly said.

"Hey. I'm, uh, I'm here to see Randy?" Kenny asked.

"Oh. Mommy and daddy are fighting again." Shelly told him quietly.

"They won't mind." Kenny strolled in past her - Randy and Sharon looked no different besides both having much longer hair and Sharon being a bit slimmer, which made her a lot more enticing in Kenny's opinion.

"Randy, one of these days, I'm just going to leave and I won't come back!"

"Go ahead, Sharon, see if I care!"

"Dude, I don't know why you're arguing with her, she's hot!" Kenny praised in shock.

"Oh..." Randy seemed to stop, then smirked proudly, "Well yeah, it's true, I did get pretty lucky there, haha." he sized her up, not questioning this stranger's presence, more preoccupied with the dual male mind control devices attached to Sharon's chest.

Sharon laughed, "Oh, that's very nice of you both..." she said, all forgotten, her voice soft and motherly again, "I guess I lost the baby weight quickly, huh?" she giggled slightly, "People are always so drawn to me... hey, I'm gonna go make some coffee, Mr... sorry, I didn't catch your name.

"Uhh... Richard O'Brien." Kenny had been watching the Rocky Horror Picture Show earlier.

"All right. Say Randy, could you check on the baby, please?" she asked. Randy did not argue as he left to check. Apparently complimenting Sharon's looks softened her up. Kenny kept this in mind, even though he could already tell these were not the same Mr. and Mrs. Marsh he was familiar with.

"Oh, sure, Shar. Hey, Mr. O'Brien, you wanna see our son? He's just six months old now." Randy entered a bedroom, "His name's Stanley." he said as they approached a crib, "Looks just like his daddy... and his grandad... and grandad's grandad... and that nice Parker guy I met at work... oh, and he kinda reminds me of-"

"Mr. Marsh, I get it." Kenny replied as he looked down into the crib. A chubby black-haired baby reached up at Kenny with a grin and he couldn't help but smile at baby Stan. The mission was virtually forgotten for the moment, "He seems like a nice kid."

"Yeah, he is. I just hope Sharon doesn't coddle him too much, I don't want him to turn into some kind of tree-hugging pussy." Randy laughed.

"Yeah." Kenny bit his lip, "Dr. Marsh, I was wondering if you had any extra beer I could take off your hands? It's for a good cause, you know, donating it to the poor..."

"I, uh, well normally I'd say no but you got me out of a pickle with my wife, and besides, I loved you in the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Take one of the six-packs in the freezer in the garage. Sharon'll be happy to see it go."

"It'll be plenty, Dr. Marsh, thank you." Kenny told him,

"No problem, just some S'mores-flavored Schnapps anyway, I mean two six-packs of those can last me like a month." Randy nodded as baby Stan stood up in his crib and reached at Kenny, "Awh, the little guy likes you!" Randy smiled. Kenny rolled his eyes,

"I'd love to say, Dr. Marsh, but I have to get out of here soon. My, uh, friend is waiting for me." Kenny lied, "Thanks for your generosity with the Schnapps. They'll really distrac- I mean, help these guys out."

"Hey, anything for my favorite British actor!" Randy smiled as Kenny left for the garage.

xXx

Stuart coughed, "Is this joint okay? You didn't steal it from that freaky bald guy's house again?" His wife was never very good at getting them their weekly dose of drugs. She had a history of bad dealers - not to mention there was a hit placed on them at one point by a gang for questioning their prices (the woman had a knack of calculating drug prices) but thankfully that gang was wiped out.

"No, ah didn't, he chased me away with tha' stupid puppet again..." Carol said, "Hand it over, Stuart, we gotta share this one, ah let you keep the last one!" she reached for it and he pulled his arm away then sighed and let her have it.

"I'm back." the front door opened - still on it's hinges at this point - and their future son Kenny entered with a wagon and a six-pack of S'more's Flavored Schnapps. "All right, here you go. Now you're not going to that cult meeting, right?"

Stuart stared in disbelief, "Holy shit, S'more's Flavored Scnahpps!" he ran forward, "Oh my God, fuck Jim, this is way better than the shit he gives us." Carol tossed the joint in the garbage - which probably wasn't a good idea but nobody seemed to notice - and grabbed a bottle. "Thanks kid."

"Yeah, we owe ya one." Stuart and Carol toasted two bottles of Schnapps lazily before both taking long swigs. "Wow, one sip and ah already feel kinda drunk-ish..." Carol burped, "Goddamn ah can't hold this stuff well... mm..."

Kenny narrowed his eyes, "So you're not going to be at the cult meeting, right?" he asked with a bit of contempt, getting pretty sick of his parents' stupidity. At least his plan seemed to be working so far.

"Awh, hell no, this stuff'll last us hours, Jim probably would've taken the stuff away as soon as we got drunk and stuffed us in a closet like last time." Stuart said, taking a swig, "Carol, Jesus, can you belief this stuff, sweetie?"

"No, this is the best day o' mah lahf... well besides when Kenny was born..." Carol yawned, taking a swig herself, "I'm tellin' ya, that kid's gonna be a real badass sometime, ah tell ya what..." Kenny rolled his eyes and turned on the television, ignoring them, to see a young Terrance and Phillip,

"Say Terrance?"

"Yes Phillip?" Poot. Cue giggling. Suddenly it cut away,

"Breaking news, South Park, as it appears a group of cultists have been arrested on Bonanza Street. Rumor has it they were attempting to cast a spell on a young child, but they all got drunk and forgot about it. Among those arrested were cult leader and restaraunteer Jim McElroy, age 25... school teacher Richard Adler, age 37..." the newscaster continued to list. Kenny smirked and crossed his arms - his work here was done.

"I'll be right back." Kenny stepped near the back as Stuart and Carol were busy drinking their brains out and trying to keep their hands off each other. He neared a door and looked both ways before creaking it open to see a small baby in the bed. Kenny entered as the child looked up at him, saying nothing. Kenny didn't speak, just biting his lip, knowing very well who this was. He sighed, deciding to leave himself be. As he left the room he was cornered in the hallway by Damien,

"Tsk, tsk, Kenneth, well you've changed history - now let's see how things worked out."

xXx

Fire was everywhere. That was the first thing Kenny noticed.

It was like a scene out of a classic Horror movie - the entire area was smoky and fiery, there was no grass or snow, just soil, and there were bones and skulls littering the ground. He really hoped he'd reapparated to a Halloween haunted house. He shook himself off and looked around at the carnage - the ground had a red tint. Blood had been spilled here, he could tell immediately. Wherever he was, this was a place that had seen a lot of death.

"What do you think, Kenny?" Damien reappeared a few feet away - he looked solemn, but a bit happy at the same time, "This is your future. Let me take you into what remains of the town..." he snapped his fingers and with a crack they stood near the ruins of Tom's Rhinoplasty.

"Where... where is everyone?"

"I don't know. How about we ask our mighty leader, Saddam Hussein?" Damien crossed his arms, letting out a rather evil laugh, "This is the world where Kenny McCormick never became an immortal." he explained, "The world ruled by tyrants and villains... so much for friendly faces everywhere, am I right?" Damien was absolutely revelling in this. Kenny looked around, still seeing nothing but death and broken buildings, the sky full of smoke.

"...Damien, how did things get so terrible?" Kenny asked quietly, looking around and running towards what had once been the Photo Bijou. A corpse lay behind the desk and nothing else. "Everything is dead or dying..."

"You haven't seen the half of it." Damien grinned, leading Kenny through the town, "Look Kenny, the truth is, in a lot of ways, nothing changed - your friends still became friends, maybe the fat kid was a little less spoiled, maybe poofball hat kid's parents only divorced once, but to be honest, not much changed... at first." Kenny saw skeletal remains near the rubble of the movie theater, "But you have to understand - you are important in a lot of ways..." he went on.

"How? How does dying over and over and over, and waking up with nobody giving a fuck about you make me 'important'?" Kenny asked, kicking a rock. He was sick of the cycle, he had ended it and yet here he was, around a destroyed landscape.

Damien lead Kenny through the residential district in complete silence for several moments - all of the houses seemed vacant, with feral pets moving around. A few houses had severe damage, and a 'for sale' sign lay in the snow in front of the Marsh home. And that's when Kenny saw his house. Or, the lack there of. "...do you see?"

"Of course." Kenny replied, in disbelief, "What the hell happened to my house?" he looked to Damien with anger, but the spawn of Satan grinned like a kid in a candy store.

"It's rather symbolic isn't it?" Damien laughed with pride, "See, let me explain... first off, the fat kid never found out who his father was. You never connected the wires - every patient in the hospital died that evening, including the old geneticist. Not much of a crisis... but it was somewhat of a foreshadowing. The real crisis came when Terrance &amp; Phillip: Asses of Fire hit theaters..."

"You haven't answered my question." Kenny narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms.

"And spoil it all now? Pish posh, Kenny! It's called suspense, a very common technique in literature, film and even video games. See, when that movie hit, that big fat Jewish she-bitch went about her plans and killed Terrance and Phillip, thus starting the American-Canadian War - countless men from this town lost their lives there, Kenny, including your father. Your father, who had been haunted for years by the death of his young son, wishing, wishing dearly he could see his son again-"

"...well, what father wouldn't think something like that? Don't pin this all on me-" Kenny suddenly couldn't move his mouth at all, glaring at Damien.

"I wasn't finished! Sure, the war was postponed, and war criminals Terrance and Phillip managed to evade your Secretary of Offense for a few weeks... but the pre-emptive war drained the American and Canadian economies. People were losing jobs, nobody could pay their taxes, property values went down... your mother went back to her parents and lived in their mansion with Kevin. And then they found Terrance and Phillip executed them, and Saddam Hussein rose. And without your prompting, my father never dumped him, and now Saddam rules the world. Without you controlling the golden PSP, and access to Weapons of Mass Destruction, he managed to take over Heaven not long after... but on the bright side, with the whole world virtually destroyed, the BP oil spill never occurred and Cthulhu still hasn't been freed. The cult members all killed themselves anyway... now where was I? Oh right. Without you, the Jew and poofball hat kid all died in the crossfire at the American-Canadian border. Now I know what you're thinking - what about the fat kid's one-time superpowers? Nope. Didn't do shit to Saddam 'cause Satan killed him when he asked for that statue. Not to mention without a hero, crime ran rampant..."

"...so everyone in the world is either dead or experiencing constant torture at the hands of Saddam Hussein?" Kenny asked with a raised eyebrow, "All this because I'm not an immortal?"

"Yes." Damien explained stepping away, his back to Kenny, "You see, your power may seem like a curse, oh, I don't blame you, death is very painful, especially over and over... but the fact is Kenny, you have this power for a reason, an important reason. The fact is, you're the hero this town needs. With great power, comes great responsibility, you know, the same shit you hear in every one of the ten superhero moves your mortal friends churn out every damn year."

Kenny sighed heavily, "...you're right." he turned, "You're right." he repeated grudgingly, "I guess... maybe I need to stop being so angry about it and... learn to keep using it towards helping people. I mean... sure, it's a curse but... it's helped me out of a lot of tight situations... and I guess, at least it's given me a chance to live my life and not die young..." he sighed, "All right Damien, I have to go back and fix this, don't I?"

Damien nodded, "Yes, yes... as much as I love this world, things have to go back to how they are... although we can stay here a few more hours, I'd love to see how Saddam's decorated his Royal Palace-"

"Damien!"

"Fine, fine..." Damien snapped his fingers. Nothing. "Aw, shit... I forgot about something..."

"More like someone!" Haman appeared in the sky, only the eyes truly visible to them. Damien crossed his arms, looking up at the entity angrily,

"Haman, you dick!" Damien looked to Kenny, "Remember that douchebag Haman? Thinks he's hot shit? Yeah, he thinks he's in charge even though my dad could kill his ass if Saddam gave a shit." he explained, "Without you, he was able to be in power for a good few weeks before they stepped in. He doesn't really do much though. Just talks about how much he hates Moses and stuff. It's kind of sad really."

"You will not leave this realm!" Haman declared angrily. Damien yawned, sitting down on the McCormicks' front stoop, "...what are you doing? You're not fighting me?"

"Hey Kenny, you want some breakfast?" Damien asked quietly. Kenny raised an eyebrow - what the fuck did the son of Satan think he was doing now? "I'm gonna go make some pop-tarts..." Damien went to open the door when suddenly he was pushed back and fell on the ground.

"Okay, okay, you know what? Fuck you." Haman's voice came, "Go back and change history, like I care - I am the great Haman, and I will rise again!" Haman disappeared, leaving Kenny alone with the child of Lucifer again. Damien grinned and prepared to snap his fingers, but stopped and looked to Kenny,

"So... ready to repair the flow of time?" Damien asked. Kenny bowed his head and nodded - it was his destiny, he realized. He was the hero South Park needed - whether he liked it or not. Damien bit his lip, sighed and looked at him, "Look... I may sound like a mortal faggot but... I'm sorry it has to be this way." he told him, "We can't choose our destinies... but I guess, if we chose how our lives played out... well, it wouldn't be life now, would it? I mean, that's the magic of it all, right? Not knowing what will happen tomorrow?" Damien shook his head, "Let's get the hell out of here. I think this world is getting to me..." And his fingers finally snapped.

xXx

"What? We'll talk about that later..." she shook her head and focused on the task at hand, "Oh, it's at the old McElroys place. Ain't it a shame only Jim's left here. It'd be nice to see Thomas and Nellie again." Carol noted, "He's holding the event in the basement or somethin', hell if I remember. Elm Street, I think it was."

"Oh, good, we can walk there then." The bell did not ring this time - Kenny was not going to be so open. He stood outside the house and peeked in the window, thinking hard - he had to make sure they left. They probably would, but he had to be extra sure...

"Honey, I'll get ready in five minutes, this is almost over." Stuart said as he continued to watch the television. Carol put her hands on her hips, a bit annoyed with him but a bit understanding. Kenny snapped his fingers - he didn't have Damien's powers, but he did have an idea. He quickly ran across the train tracks and approached the Marsh house, overhearing those same fighting words:

"Oh, it's so easy for you, Sharon, all you have to do is cook and clean! How often do you so much as leave the house!"

"Really? That's your excuse? Randy, all you do is sit at the geology station and drink beer all day!"

"That's not true! I analyze rock samples and stuff! You're just a dumb receptionist or something!"

"Oh Christ..." Kenny mumbled as he looked to the poorly-made crack in the brick wall where the chord from his home entered - they had begun mooching off the Marsh family when it was still just Gerald and Stuart's clubhouse. Kenny sighed guiltily and pulled a knife out of his jacket and cut the wire - he had confidence his dad would fix it, but that would do the job for now. He quickly jumped back over the train tracks and ran home to see how his parents were reacting, looking through a window to watch his parents.

"Fucking TV's out again, godammit what did Randy do this time? I swear I'm gonna kick his ass at the bar tomorrow... ugh, let's just get going." Stuart stretched and got up as Carol waited by the door with her handbag, "Who's watching the kids?" he asked, as if suddenly reminded of some minor inconvenience.

"I thought your brother was coming to watch them." Carol said, eye raised as she put a small bit of lipstick in her bag and it fell out. Huh. No wonder she didn't use that thing anymore. She tossed it aside as Stuart scratched the back of his neck and avoided his wife's gaze,

"Uh, honey, Luke's not coming for another three days..." he said, "Fuck. Free beer... but we have the kids to worry about. Is it safe to bring them to a cult meeting?" he asked her. Carol crossed her arms,

"Stuart, I don't think that's really safe but..." she bit her lip, "Free beer..." Good parenting methods versus one of the few things the couple could enjoy together. Drowning out the horrors of life versus the safety of their two boys. It sounds like one answer is obvious, but it really was a difficult question.

"Well, we already told Jim we'd be there..." Stuart looked down, "Maybe if we bring the kids but just... keep them away from the beer... maybe ask Jim to watch them if we get drunk? He's a nice guy, we can trust him..." he said quietly, as if not entirely sure of what he was saying.

"Right, right..." she looked down and turned, "...Kevin, could you and your brother come here?" Kenny's heart sank as he saw his brother, looking just three or four, holding his younger baby self as he entered the room - he knew what was going to happen, and he wanted to stop it but he knew he had to watch and let it happen. "We're going to the McElroys' place, get your coat on, okay?"

"Okay dad." Kevin went to his room with the little Kenny, and the ten-year-old Kenny wiped a tear from his eye and left the window, sighing deeply, not sure what happened next but knowing the result. He looked around and realized it was time to go back home, everything fixed, back to his miserable cycle of life and death. Damien not in sight, he pulled out his pistol and without turning his head, shot himself in the head, his last thought in this life knowing exactly where he'd wake up.

xXx

Token Black carefully adjusted the lens of his camera as he stood near the edge of Stark's Pond. He enjoyed photography - it was an incredibly simple task, but it could be impossible sometimes to capture the perfect scene. He looked over to his partner right now, Lola, who was setting up the scene for them - she was a pretty girl with long brown hair and a black headband, and she was wearing a purple coat over her usual green shirt. She was in the middle of arranging the snow on the plants in the camera's focus area, "Lola?"

"Yeah?" Lola asked, finishing and turning. Token simply smiled - Lola was a wonderful assistant. She listened to him, she paid attention to detail, she was quiet, but not shy, she reminded him but did not nag him. "What is it?" she asked, crossing her arms, brown eyes watching him, a single eyebrow raised.

Token smirked, "Good job." he said simply, impressed with her work, and eager to mess with her head, "You're doing a fine job." he told her as he adjusted the lens again, "All right, move over here, almost ready... how d'you think this shot'll come out?" he asked in honesty. Lola shrugged, and so did he, "Okay... three... two... one!" he snapped the photograph with a flash and sighed, "Okay, that's the last one for the project... got space for another one or two."

"How about one of me?" Lola smirked, moving in front of the camera, "I'll strike a pose!" she suggested, standing with her arms outstretched and her face up towards the sky, and if Token didn't know better, he might think she was puffing out her chest a bit, "How's this look, Token? Or..." she posed again so she was leaning forward - if she wasn't dressed so conservatively, she'd be looking very seductive, "Or how about-"

"The first one was fine..." Token said quietly, taken aback by this provocactive photoshoot. Lola nodded and returned to the first pose and Token prepared to take a photo, "Three... two... one..." There was a flash of light. Token grinned, approaching her. "That one was perfect." he smirked. Lola blushed a bit,

"R-really? Well, I though the pose would be good for a photo..." she played with her hair now nervously. Token put his hands on her shoulders, and she smiled, leaning in. He leaned in as well, moving in for a kiss when-

"Hey dudes!" Kenny McCormick greeted with a sincere smile, waving, "'sup?" he asked quickly. Token and Lola looked at each other, then awkwardly back to him,

"Kind of busy here, dude..." Token said quietly, biting his lip. Kenny was quite the cockblocker sometimes, and right now had to be one of the worst examples. Not that this seemed to be affecting Lola - she was still quite ready to recieve cock. Okay, that came out wrong...

"My bad. Laters!" Kenny left the two lovers and dashed off by the houses. The Broflovski mailbox was still outside Kyle's House, the Marsh house still had their car in front, that same car he knew so well, and Cartman's house still had kitten tracks in the snow. All was well and normal. He returned to his home and opened the door only to see both of his parents, hands on their hips, "Uhh... hi mom, hi dad..."

"Kenny, where the hell have you been?" Stuart crossed his arms with anger, "Your mother and I have been worried sick about you. We called the Cartmans, the Broflovskis, the Marshes, the Stotches and nobody's seen you since last night! Do you have any idea how fucking worried we were?" he asked his son, blue eyes glaring with that mix of anger and love only one family member can truly give to another.

"We thought ya'd died, Kenny! We thought... we'd..." Carol sighed, not wanting to admit to mistakes of the past, "Ya can't jus' go wanderin' off by yerself, Kenny... ya need to be around grown-ups... real grown-ups, not weirdos... yer father an' ah don't wanna have ta lose ya or... worse, have ya get hurt... again..." she shook her head, "Ya understand, right?" she said looking into his eyes. Kenny nodded solmenly,

"Of course... I'm sorry you guys I just... I needed to see something... I just..." Kenny sighed, "I learned something today... we all have our problems, you know, our little issues..." he was hesitant to say curses, "And we all wish we could change things to work better... but everything happens for a reason, I guess, and we all have a role, a place and... sometimes we just have to accept the way things are, because there's a reason things are the way they are..."

"...that was beautiful." Stuart said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, "Come on inside... remember that can you got last Thanksgiving? We finally found a can opener under Kevin's mattress!" He widened the door so Kenny could enter, Carol moving aside for her son. Kenny smiled and dashed in beneath them. Carol and Stuart exchanged worried glances,

"Ah swear, we gotta watch him better..." Carol said quietly, "Ah don't want anythin' to ever happen to that boy again, Stuart..." she sighed as she left and moved back toward the kitchen. Stuart stood alone, sighing heavily,

"God knows how bad a curse he already has..." and he closed the door.


	46. Unfortunate Son (Gen, CarolStuart)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

I've had chest pains for about ten years now. I'd just suddenly feel a sharp, deep pain in my chest like I'd been stabbed by someone. I could never tell what caused them, it was very strange. My wife suggested to me I had some kind of heart disease, which I thought sounded fairly reasonable. So I decided to call up my doctor, although since we didn't have health care, I had to convince the school nurse to take a look instead. She was a kind woman with a motherly feel about her, a pair of kind blue eyes and pink hair that looked somehow natural and not dyed, with a dead fetus attached to her head that wiggled as she spoke. "Well, I can't seem to find any sign of what's causing these problems, Mr. McCormick."

"Are you sure, Nurse Gollum?" I asked worriedly, taking off my 'SCOTCH' cap and holding it to my chest, my once blonde locks, now dirty brown, spilled out.

"I'm sure, Mr. McCormick. There's nothing in my research that can explain it. Do you drink alcohol or use drugs? That may have something to do with it." she said.

"No. I've been sober since my wife got pregnant." I replied with complete honesty. I hadn't used drugs in several years and I agreed to lay off the alcohol for a while, as hard as it was. I love my scotch.

"All righty... well I can't seem to tell what's wrong with you. I suggest you go home and get some rest, it might just be all the stress from having another baby." she suggested. I nodded, thanked her, offered her money, was refused, and walked home. Nurse Gollum's a nice lady. I returned to my home to see my beautiful wife, with green eyes and flowing red hair, and our infant two-day old son Kenny, who had only three blonde hairs and rosy cheeks.

"Awh, jus' look at him Stuart. I could barely let the li'l angel out o' mah sight... after ya left I sorta fell asleep and he got away for a li'l bit though." she apologized to me.

"Our little Kenny." I smiled, looking at the little baby, "Heh, cootchi-coo..." I said...

The chest pains didn't stop. They came back every now and then, sometimes days apart, sometimes weeks. It got even worse one day though when our little Kenny was about two. Me and Carol took him to the park with his brother Kevin, who was now about six. Our two little boys were playing together just like brothers. Kevin's hair was still blonde and his eyes still blue as he sat in the sandbox with his little brother, the blue-eyed young Kenny playing with a Batman toy in the sand we'd bought for him. We took away the small parts. At this time, we were still concerned about being responsible parents.

Kenny tossed the Batman toy about a few times, when the next thing we knew, he was at the sidewalk. Kevin was playing with a truck in the sandbox, distracted from his brother when Kenny accidentally tossed the Batman off, and the toy landed just off to the edge of the street. The two-year-old, with his blonde locks and big blue eyes, and wandered off into the street to retrieve the toy...

BANG!

"Oh ma God, they killed Kenny!" Carol sobbed into my shirt and then I felt that chest pain once more as I saw the remains of my son on the street, the Batman toy safe in a few fingers, but nothing but blood and clothing where my son stood just seconds before. The car had moved on and Kenny was gone.

"You bastard!" I called after them in shock. The pain didn't leave my chest as I stared in horror at my son. Kevin tugging at my shirt. I looked down at him with anger and hatred in my eyes - how could he let his little brother die like that? How could he be so stupid? Kevin was older now! He was supposed to be smarter than this! I did not make eye contact as I took the toy, picked up Kenny's shorts and orange jacket as I returned by my wife, "Come on, let's... let's just get home."

xXx

I was sitting next to Carol on the couch as we watched the television. I didn't even know what was on. Everything outside of me was a blur at this point - I'd lost my son. He was dead. Gone. Forever. I couldn't take it. Poor Kenny... at least he'd go to Heaven. I sighed - this was too much. Too much. I took a bottle off the table and gulped it without even looking what it was. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered without my son. Carol agreed to let me ground Kevin for not watching his brother. I took a long drink when I noticed those deep green eyes glaring back at me with intense rage, "Stuart, ya said ya wouldn't drink anymore!"

"Hey, I've been sober for four years, one beer won't kill me!" I protested as I brought the bottle to my lips, taking a gentle, long sip, feeling the alcohol going down my throat and entering my system once more. My wife just turned her gaze back to the television, unhappy. "What's up your ass?"

"Stuart, we both agreed after that incident at the cult meetin' you wouldn't drink anehmore! Drinkin' is what got us into this damn mess... I know it's hard without Kenny around, but we can't fall back into bad habits!"

"It's my body, I'll do with it what I want." I said angrily, "That's what you said when you refused to get Kevin aborted!" I said, remembering when I'd accidentally impregnated an intended one-night stand back when she was twelve and I was in my twenties. In my defense, she was one hell of a developed twelve-year-old. Like you'd say no to a twelve-year-old who looked sixteen with her boobs in your face who looked drunk enough to not remember it the next day.

"Tha's different, Stuart! I didn't want an aborton because ah underestimated the diff'culty of raisin' a child on a shoestring budget. An' I thought my parents would be helping us out! Ins'ead they disowned me! Maybe you shouldn'ta had sex with a twelve-year-old, ever thought o' that you piece o' shit?" I just took another sip of beer,

"Why don't you shut your fat mouth you dumb bitch?" I sent back.

"You know what, Stuart? Yer just gonna end up like yer deadbeat father, you know that!" she said as I took another sip.

"Go fuck yourself. 'cuz I ain't doin' it to you ever again!" I said angrily, rising up and drinking more, the alcohol contaminating my system increasingly, "Think you're so goddamn smart, don't you? Why'd you let our son get killed today? We lost him you bitch!"

"I don' need yew! There's plen'y o' men around who'd love a tap at dis!" she said, motioning to herself, "And I'm smarter than you. I don't drink! I don't smoke! I don't do drugs!"

:"Why don't you try it sometime then?" I said as I kicked the table, knocking off a leg.

"Stuart godammit, how'r we gonna replace that?"

"I don't know! Put a goddamn cinderblock there!" I yelled as I slammed the door shut, leaving and taking the car, heading for Skeeter's Bar...

xXx

It was nearing 2:50am as I sat at Skeeter's Bar, one of only two men left there. A few feet away from me was a tall, buff man with flaming red hair who looked like he stepped out of an issue of Sports Illustrated. "Hit me." I said.

"It's too late, pal, I gotta close shop." replied the bartender who's name to this day I can't remember.

"Hey, you okay buddy?" said the man in red hair.

"What the fuck do you care?" I cursed back, "My son died today!"

"Look man, I know what it feels like to lose a son." he replied, "I have two sons. But I haven't seen the second one since he was born. It was a mistake... it was off-season and I got a little bored, and well, I was here and ran into this beautiful brunette woman. We had a little affair, a little sex, a few quickies here or there, but at the end of the week I stayed true to my family. It turned out I knocked her up. About nine months later she called me up to tell me she'd given birth to a nine pound baby. I told her I wanted nothing to do with it. She begged me to at least name it, I told her if I name it, never call me again... so I told her to name him Eric."

"That's a faggy name."

"Kid thought so too. Hear he goes by his last name now..."

"Jack, get the hell out of here, it's late." replied the bartender.

"Put it on my tab." replied Jack as he took a football helmet off the counter and put it on his head. He turned around and I saw his jersey - DENVER BRONCOS.

"All right Stu, it's 3am, get the hell out of here." the bartender said, taking me by the arms and shoving me out back. I got up, putttng a hand to my head. Motherfucker. I need a designated driver. Suddenly I saw a man walk up to me with long raven hair, crazy brown eyes, and a mustache dressed in a brown shirt.

"Hey man! You looking for some weed?"

"Weed?"

"Yeah, just $18, brah! I need to get rid of it, my wife says no more weed, it's the last bag I got, and Barbrady almost busted me trying to sell it earlier. Come on man, help a brah out!" replied the raven-haired man.

"...I don't know, man, my wife says I shouldn't have alcohol."

"...but it'll make you forget your troubles, I swear!"

I thought for a long moment, then took out my wallet, contemplating the deal for what seemed like a long moment, but in reality was mere seconds. "...if that's the truth, then it's worth every penny... what'd you say your name was again?"

"Randy."

xXx

I tossed my bag of weed into the pickup truck as I took the wheel, feeling confident as I put my key in the ignition and started the car. I prepared to turn and-

BOOM!

The pickup track smashed forward and I jerked back into the seat, the airbags hitting me. I'm still not even sure what happened that night, I was so drunk it's impossible to remember exactly what happened. But at the end of the day, I parked the pickup truck, and took off the wheels, then slipped into bed next to my sleeping wife, curled up. Our son. Gone and lost. Forever. I sobered as the night went on, but suddenly heard an ear-piercing scream, "AAAAUGH!" My wife got up and cripped her stomach, "Stuart... A-Ah think I'm goin' into labor!"

"What? But that's impossible!"

"GAAAH, I-I-"

xXx

"Awwh, cootchie-coo..." I said smiling as we stood over the little infant in her arms. He had full cheeks, a grin, and big blue eyes with three little blonde hairs, "Heh."

"Our li'l angel... what shou' we name him?" my wife looked into my eyes, all forgiven.

"...well considering Kenny died just a few hours ago... how about we name him... Kenny?"

"Awwh, Kenny's such a great name. Mah little Kenny."

"Let's make this one last. " Stuart smiled at his wife, holding the baby in his arms. "A brand new Kenny..."

xXx

About a week after the second Kenny was born, he'd already grown fast and was talking a little and everything. It was pretty shocking - it was as if our son had never died. Carol was still annoyed with my drinking habits, but I'd kept under control since then - less blurs. Though I did yell a lot when I did get tipsy...Kevin stayed in his room. I think the poor kid was afraid of me after that, I guess. The pickup truck was such a wreck but we couldn't afford insurance so it just sits out front now. Carol indeed put a cinderblock under the table. On the bright side, Sheila Broflovski, who was new in town - I was unaware she was Gerry's wife at first - offered us the family's old ColecoVision, which I hooked up to our old black-and-white TV. Kev loved that thing, heh.

Jim McElroy still came around and invited us to the meetings for his cult and sent us gift baskets at the holidays and stuff. He's actually a pretty swell guy for someone who believes the world should be ruled by a dark overlord from another dimension. Gerald and Sheila came over occasionally with their little son Kyle to visit, he and Kenny took quite a liking to one another. I personally refused to speak with Gerry after all the shit that happened in college, but me and Carol did have a discussion with Sheila once while Kyle and Kenny were playing.

"So Stuart, Carol, you know this new little boy looks so much like the first Kenny, it's almost weird." Sheila observed, "I thought you said he was just born last week?"

"He was, Sheila, I swear." Carol nodded.

"But that's impossible, he's much too old." Sheila protested, sipping some hot water.

"What the hell are you talking about? Kenny died, and that's our new son Kenny." I clarified again.

"This baby's two years old, it's very clear, it's the same child. You probably just go so worried about the poor thing your mind's playing tricks on you." Sheila said, "Besides my bubbe doesn't seem to notice a difference." when suddenly there was a cry from the other room.

"YOU BASTARDS!"

"What what what?" We ran into the other room, staring in shock at the sight before them, Sheila placing a hand over her mouth. Kenny was on the floor, Kyle pushing on his chest as if to wake up him, repeating the phrase over and over.

"Oh my God, they- they killed Kenny!" I said in disbelief as I stared at my son's body, Kyle pushing on his chest until a small toy popped out of his mouth, landing on the floor. I picked it up in anger, my chest stinging. No. Not again. This can't be happening... and then I made a connection. The pains in my chest. The last time I felt them was when the first Kenny died... maybe there's a connection?

"Stuart, Carol, I'm so sorry." apologized Sheila, hands on her mouth, "Bubbe, what happened?"

"You bastards!" Kyle said, pointing up at something he could not see.

"Oh my bubbe... his first sentence, too..." Sheila picked up her son, kissing him all over, even his curly auburn hairs, the boy's young green eyes focused on his mother's loving embrace. Me and Carol exchanged looks - another son gone? What would we do now? Sheila gave us several kind reminders and tips before we pushed- I mean, before she left. I picked up the first beer I could find and drank the whole bottle quickly,

"Stuart, you have ta' stop! Ya can't deal with yer problems by jus' drinkin'!"

"I'll do whatever it takes to forget any of this ever happened!" I took another sip, "I can't take it! Two sons gone!"

"Ya think is hard fer you? I abandoned my whole family fer you, Stuart! I coulda been rich and famous just like mom n' paw! And then one day I wen' to a stupid party and slept with a boy twice my age and got preg'nt. I coulda had an abortion and just ran off. But I stood by you, because I loved you! And now look! It was all fer nothin'! I lost everythin' because of you! Yer... yer just like yer deadbeat father!"

"My deadbeat father? You liked me because your parents were never around to begin with!" I cursed at her, mind not in me right now, "That's what we had! Neither of us had our parents! It was me and my brothers, and you had nobody! So you're the one to talk about MY deadbeat father!" I pointed out.

"I dunno what I ever saw in you! Yer just a raging alcoholic!" Carol said, crossing her arms at me.

"You're the one who was all friendly like! And you said you were sixteen!"

"I was still underage!" Carol protested.

"You know why I drink? I drink because I want to forget. I don't care if it's unhealthy or shit, cause you know what? My life sucks anyway! So what if I die? Will you care? No! Will Kevin? No. Kenny's gone! I just want to forget! Forget about you, Kenny, Kevin, Dad, Luke and Gerald and everything! Surpress it all and just be free from life! I like my scotch, I drink my scotch, okay?"

"...I'd care if you died." she said, voice breaking a bit. "Stuart, c'mon... it's not that bad. I mean, ya have me, and we have Kev... that- that's more than a lotta couples can say." she said quietly.

"...yeah." I said grudgingly, turning around, "I just... it's hard enough to deal with losing a child, much less losing once twice! And in a week, no less!" I took another sip.

"I... I unders'and. Look Stu, things're hard, I know, but ya can't kill yourself. We'll make things work..." she said, "And 'sides, I guess maybe a little scotch ain't bad in moderation." I shrugged, handing her the bottle and she took a small sip, "Eh, s'okay I guess..." she said, when suddenly her eyes widened and she gripped her stomach, "Aaah!"

"What? Did the scotch hurt you?"

"No Stu, it's- - gah!" Carol replied.

"This is what, the second time this has happened?" I said, scratching the back of my head as Carol gently placed a small baby on our deceased son's bed, wrapping him in an orange cloth taken from the curtain.

"Fourth. Another new Kenny..." she sighed at me, "Think it'll just keep going on like this? Every few days?"

"I sure hope not... we need to get him some real clothes. Maybe a nice warm coat or something..." I said as he went back into the doorway, looking back at our son. I looked to my wife.

"We shoulda never gone to that stupid cult meetin'..."

The End


	47. Remember Me (Grandpa&Shelly)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

"All right, dad, well we just want to thank you for coming over to watch Shelly on such short notice." Randy Marsh said as he put on his brown jacket, preparing to leave the house. His wife stood next to him as she got on her nicest "scroat-cut" as it'd been affectionately dubbed, "Jimbo and Ned are off on a safari in Africa and Stanley's out with his friends in Puerto Rico on some adventure, so we were kinda stuck with you."

"Shelly can mostly look after herself at this age, but we thought she might be lonely with us gone for so many hours." Sharon explained.

"Ah, don't worry about it, lookin' after a little kid's easy as pie. All I have to do is prep the ol' record player and put on whatever doesn't sound like shit." Grampa Marvin Marsh explained, "I mean come on, I'm a hundred and four years old, I didn't fly spitfires seventy years ago to have my mental status called into question all the time."

"Dad, Shelly's not a little kid anymore, she's thirteen." Sharon said, still a bit worried as her motherly instinct began to kick in.

"...I knew that." Marvin piped in, lying through his teeth, "You two kids get going to your faggy Broadway musical and I'll look after the twins godammit." he said angrily. Sharon looked to Randy with concern,

Randy raised a hand, "Dad, you only have to watch one kid, Stan's-"

"Fuck off, Howard, I'm a hundred and four years old, I know what the hell I'm doing, now go see the Book o' whatever the hell it is and lemme do my job!" Marvin said, "...I almost crapped my pants there for a second."

Sharon began, "...Dad-"

"You have everything under control, so we'll just get out of your hair." Randy nodded, covering his wife's mouth as they quickly shuffled out of the house, closing the door behind them. Marvin scowled, shook his head at his family's disrespect for their elders, and turned on the television. Mostly a bunch of shit. More shit. Some shit shitting on more shit. A reality show about the Shitty Housewives of New Shit City. And finally a rerun of the Andy Griffith Show, that'll do. Huh. Everything looked kinda shitty here too, this time. Marvin shrugged it off and wheeled over to the fridge to get a whiskey, his favorite drink.

"Hi Grampa." Shelly greeted her grandfather as Marivn jumped and closed the door,

"Hey, what's the big frickin' idea sneaking up on me like that you little shit!?" Marvin sneered. Shelly, however, didn't back down a bit, never one to get too fearful in most situations,

"Can't keep your handsh off the whishkey, huh? What a shurprishe." she said sarcastically with a faked chuckle. Her parents both had alcoholic tendencies, as did her uncle and his heterosexual life partner, and she was well aware of Stan's own problems. It seemed like she was the only one in the immediate family who didn't drink. Turds.

Grampa Marvin Marsh sneered at his granddaughter, quite annoyed with his behavior, "Hey, missy, I'll have you know that I've earned the right to drink! I'm-"

"Yeah, yeah, one hundred and four yearsh old." Shelly rolled her eyes, "Shome thingsh never change." she said quietly, looking back to him, "Sho what exshactly are we doing?"

"What do you mean, what are we doing? You go back to your room and do whatever stupid girly shit you do and I'm going to watch some good old classic television." Grampa Marvin said matter-of-factly, clearly annoyed still. "What do you expect me to do, sit here and entertain you?"

"Well, Grampa, we could at leasht watcsh shomething we both like." Shelly suggested, "How about wreshtling?" she asked. Marvin sneered for a moment, then began to smile,

"Oh, that sounds like a fine idea to me." Marvin nodded, wheeling back over to the television and changing the channel, "You sure you aren't too young for this stuff, missy?" he asked.

"Grampa, I'm thirteen now." Shelly stressed, "I'm not a baby anymore."

"I know that, of course I know that!" Marvin said with annoyance. Shelly sighed and shook her head, "Uh, who are these fellas again?" he motioned to the wrestlers on the screen,

"You don't remember?" Jesus, had it really been so long since Shelly'd extensively talked to her grandfather? He really was losing his mind.

"Of course I remember... I-I'm just testing you!" Marvin demanded, "Now, which one's which? This one's Muhammad Ali, right?"

"Muhammad Ali'sh a bocksher, Grampa, that'sh John Shena and the Edgshe." Shelly told him, looking away, a bit exasperated with her grandfather's memory problems.

"I... oh, uh, good job, Shelly, you passed the test after all!" Marvin lied, "So, uh, what exactly's going on again? They're fightin' over some lady or something?"

Shelly pinched the bridge of her nose, "No grampa... it'sh wreshtling. They wreshle. That'sh why it'sh called wreshtling."

"Now, don't you get smart with me, young lady!" Marvin scolded angrily, "You're only a little girl, you're supposed to respect your elders! I'm a hundred and..." He put a hand to his mouth, "A hundred and... what was it? Five? Four? Maybe three?"

"Can't you remember anything, grandpa?" Shelly said, angrily, beginning to lose her patience, "Godammit, are you loshing your mind or ish it already losht?" she said, shaking her fists with rage, "You're a hundred and four yearsh old, Grampa, one hundred and four!"

"Shut up, Jessica. You're just a little girl, you have no idea the things a person has to go through! The things they see!" he said, "You don't know what it's like to get old!"

Shelly turned away, "I have no idea what it'sh like to get old? Ish that what you think you turd?" she said, "I may not be a hundred yearsh old, but I've sheen plenty of shit in my life. More shit than a lot of people do." she crossed her arms.

"You're a spoiled little brat is what you are." Marvin said. Shelly looked down,

"I'll be right back..." she sighed, leaving the room momentarily. Marvin crossed his arms. Stupid ungrateful grandchild. He resolved to watch the program when Shelly retuned with a small box,

Marvin turned off the television, "Whatcha got there now?" he asked.

Shelly sighed, shoving a photograph into his hands, "Dosh this jog your memory at all, huh?" The photograph was a slightly younger Grampa, with a little more hair, his dog Patches, and a younger Randy with longer hair giving a happy thumbs up. "That'sh your shon!"

"Oh, that's Jackson, right? Didn't he die in Vietnam or something?" Grampa raised an eyebrow, confused.

"No, Grampa, thish ish my dad, Randy, your shon, remember?" Shelly asked, "Come on..." she fished another photograph out of the box, handing him one of her little brother as a baby with a lollipop, his hat far too large for his tiyn head, "Shee? That'sh Shtan."

"Who the hell's Stan? I'd recognize that face anywhere, that's my grandson Billy." Marvin said, "Why are we looking at all these photographs anyway?"

"Do you remember thish one?" Shelly said, slightly peeved Stan was the only person he remembered so far. Stupid brother everyone loved... she passed Marvin a photograph of him and his wife Mathilda with their boys - Randy, Jimbo and Shane. Youngest Randy was doing bunny-ears, Shane was in a short dress and eldest Jimbo held his first rifle proudly. "Come on, Grampa, please..."

"Is that... ah, there's Jackson, what a great kid... and Howard making a fool out of Daniel, and... who the hell's that cheap whore behind them?"

"You're fucking kidding me! How don't you even remember your own wife?" Shelly asked angrily, "You can't remember the namesh of your own children, you can't recognishe your wife, you don't remember how old your grandkidsh are, you don't remember mosht of the crap you ushed to watch on televishion, you probably can't even name who the Preshident is right now!"

"Oh, well, that's an easy one... Ronald Reagan!" Marvin answered about thirty years or so too late. Marvin was looking through the box as he picked up another photograph - himself as a younger man, only in his mid-nineties, with a little baby girl with light brown hair and brilliant blue eyes, wearing pink pajamas and a gray shirt and smiling in his arms. He rubbed his forehad, "Huh... when was this one taken?"

"That'sh ush, grampa..." Shelly said with a sigh, looking down at the floor.

"That's impossible." Marvin tossed it aside, "Oh, hey, look over at this one." There was another picture of the younger Marvin with Shelly at the zoo in front of an exhibit full of Grevy's Zebras, one at the front eating grass, others running around in the back. Marvin supported her on his shoulder, "Wow, that looks like one hell of a horse race..." Shelly didn't look up, already feeling defeated.

"It washn't a horshe rashe, Grampa..." Shelly closed her eyes.

"Hey, looky here..." Marvin smiled, "Now, here's a good picture..." he looked down, seeing his younger self and Shelly at the carnival in front of a dunk tank, Shelly with cotton candy and Marvin smirking, with Mr. Mackey behind them in the dunk tank struggling to swim as both laugh, "Ahh, how things have changed..."

Shelly approached him, looking at the picture and sighing, "Do you remember now, Grampa? Can't you please just try to remember!?" she asked, tearing up.

"I used to be such a good shot, didn't I?" he shook his head, "Any idea who the kid is? Billy maybe?"

Shelly sneered, shook her fists, and roared at him, "What the hell hash happened to you, Grampa? You ushed to watsh me almosht every day when I wash a shutpid little kid, and we'd watsh movies and wreshtling and play gamesh and all shortsh of fun shit. When all of the other adultsh were a bunch of shtupid turdsh too focushed on the shtupid new baby mom was about to have to even remember me, you were the one who alwaysh remembered me! You were the one who went out of their way for me!" Shelly said, a mixture of anger and grief in her eyes, tears starting to roll down her cheeks, "It'sh like I'm watching you die before my eyshe!" She stopped and turned away as Marvin dropped the photograph, looking for more. Shelly stepped forward and picked it up, reading...

"Shelly, I don't know what to do anymore. I'm almost a hundred years old now and I can feel myself slipping away. It's a weird world out there, and God knows the only thing that keeps me alive anymore is all the Jameson in the world... I'm losing myself, Shelly. I feel it. I'm forgetting things I never used to forget. Things are getting harder and harder every day. I still get up to make Patches food, or to let her out at night... and I think my legs are starting to go, too, the arthritis is killing me and the doctor says I might not be able to walk much further than short distances in a year... just please Shelly, I'll always try to be there for you, but I know a time's going to come when I'm going to be a completely different person... I want you to know that after I forget, if I say or do anything to hurt you, or Stan, or your parents just... forgive me." Tears blotted the back of the photograph as Shelly read it to herself...

xXx

"...love, your Grampa." A ninety-nine year-old Marvin Marsh finished writing on the back of the photograph and quietly put it in a small box on a desk in the Marsh family living room. He took off his reading glasses and got up slowly, slapping his back and grabbing his cane as he forced himself to move his stiff legs. He slowly approached a playpen, smiling down at the little toddler inside it - a small girl with brilliant blue eyes and barely a light brown hair, wearing pink pajamas and a gray shirt,

"Grampa, grampa, what are we going to do today?" she smiled up at him. Marvin looked down for a minute - she was such a sweet little girl, God knew what the world would do to her. They'd eat her alive, take her innocence, and she'd be just like him and her father, seeing nothing but shit until she could do nothing but take her anger out on the rest of the world and barely keep it in check with generous amounts of alcohol. God knew her parents wouldn't be around, doting on the new baby instead, and God knew he couldn't save her. No. In just a few years, his mind'd be lost to the ages as his dementia grew worse, and his legs gave way. He wished he could die and spare his family the pain of seeing him slip away before their eyes, not subject them to caring for him in such a deteriorated state. He just looked down - he had to put on a happy face. Not for himself, knowing his grim fate - but for her. So she could go on just a little longer believing in happiness, fairy tales and princesses. "Grampa?"

"Whatever you'd like to do, Shelly, you're in charge." he told her with a smile. Just a little longer...

The End


	48. Faggy (MillyPete)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

"God, where the hell is Pete?" Michael looked both ways, taking a long drag from his cigarette. He furrowed his brows and looked to his companians, a noticeable empty space between him and the others, "We were supposed to go to the Village Inn fifteen minutes ago."

"Maybe they turned him into some kind of pussy wannabe conformist?" Firkle suggested, the tiny kindergartener looking up from his small spot. Who the fuck names their kid Firkle like seriously no wonder he's a fucking Goth.

"Maybe the Vampire Kids took him to their lair for an interracial gangbang." Henrietta Biggle suggested, taking a drag to rival Michael's, black hair framing her face, "That's what my mom wants to happen to me anyway. Taylor Swift wannabe."

"At least your mom knows how to speak fucking English." Michael said, "If Pete's not here in five minutes, let's just go get our coffee. I want to drink something as black as my jacket"

"Hey guys." Pete finally showed up, flipping his red-and-black hair out of his face, adjusting his bolo tie, "Sorry I'm late, but you know, I was like… too depressed to get here and stuff."

"Douche, you're supposed to come here because you're depressed. Were you listening to conformust music again?"

"Oh, shut up Michael, that was one time and that song was pretty goth." Pete flipped the hair out of his face.

"No, it wasn't. Everyone knows there are only three true Goth musicals - Sweeney Todd, Repo and Phantom the Opera." Henrietta pointed out.

"Wait, I thought Phantom of the Opera didn't count?" Firkle raised an eyebrow.

"Me and Michael saw it last weekend so we had to add it to the list." Henrietta explained, "That's why we weren't at Benny's that Saturday night."

"Well, why didn't you invite us?" Pete asked, narrowing his eyebrows.

"I, uh, my mom- she, uh forced me- there were only two tickets." Henrietta wrinkled her nose and took a drag.

"Yeah, but you guys were out like, the whole freakin' night." Pete flipped his hair away, "Whatevs. I wasn't doing anything involving any stupid conformist music, and especially wasn't watching or auditioning for some faggy, gay school musical with a bunch of conformist Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift wannabes, okay?"

"Pete! Pete!" Milly Neal ran out from the side of the school, grinning wildly, "Oh Pete, I got the best news, ya won't believe it!" she told him, running in front of him as if she hadn't noticed there were three other Goth Kids there.

"Uh, Milly, this is kind of a bad time." He put his hands up to illustrate for her to calm down but the damn girl ran up and threw her arms around his neck.

"N-no, wait though, you don't get it yet, Pete! Hold on…" she reached into her pocket and pulled out a paper, "Didn't you see the cast list?"

"Milly-"

"YER ERIK! YER THE LEAD ROLE, PETE AH COULD JUST KISS YOU!" she held him close, grinning wildly, "YER GONNA BE THE LEAD, SUGARCUBE!"

"I don't get it, is she a conformist?" Michael whispered to Henrietta.

"Well, she's already kind of pale, so she's like, a third of the way there I guess." she whispered.

Pete would've hugged back if not for the circumstances, "Uhh, Milly, you know I really like you and all but you're kind of embarassing me in front of literally all of my friends right now."

"Shit, sorry…" Milly pulled away, her accent seeming to all but disappear as she did so, turning, "Uhh… hiya?" she nervously told the other Goths.

"Pete, you're doing the school musical?" Firkle asked.

"…yeah, I kinda am." Pete flipped the hair out of his face, "But like… so what? Big deal. It doesn't make me any less of a Goth if I do, right?"

"Well, the thing is, in order to be a nonconformist, we're all supposed to listen to the same music, dress the same way, drink the same coffee, you know… shit like that." Michael pointed out.

"…oh fuck off, you guys, it's Phantom of the freakin' Opera." Pete facepalmed.

"Dude, that's pretty hardcore." Michael said quickly, "Like, congrats and stuff."

"Yeah, at least you picked out one of the Goth musicals." Henrietta rolled her eyes.

"So you guys are okay with this?"

"Well yeah, it'll be cool to have like, nonconformist representation… or something. Like when we did that Talent Show." Michael pointed in.

"…why don't I ever get included in these decisions?" Firkle asked.

"Stop being such a conformist and agree with us already." Michael sneered.

"…whatever." Firkle rolled his eyes.


	49. Angels (Kenny&Karen)

**"Collected Drabbles"**

_by JVM-SP150_

She hears him sometimes at night when he thinks she's asleep. He'll bang his head into the wall. Practically suffocate himself in his pillows and blanket. Curl up. Just want to die because he's so sick of coming back.

She takes some of her toys and tiptoes through the hallway and slips into his bedroom without a word. She knows he does a lot for her, even without knowing he's her guardian angel. He knows he tries for her, so she wants to try for him.

He doesn't see her at first. He's just so sick of it all. Going to Hell and back on a weekly and daily basis and nobody notices or cares. Why does it matter. Nothing's ever going to get any better.

She puts one of her dolls on his back and taps his shoulder lightly. He shoots up and turns around and sees her. He almost wants to be mad, it almost feels like weakness to let her cheer him up, but godammit, he can't be mad at her. He softens a little. A little. But it's enough.

Karen smiles and crawls up to him, handing him some of her toys. She wants him to know it'll all be okay. She doesn't think she's as good at words as he is so she stays quiet for now. He lies back down next to her, and starts feeling better.

"Sometimes when I'm sad, my guardian angel visits me and cheers me up." she told him quietly, voice barely a whisper, "I thought you could use a guardian angel, too."


End file.
